Fly On the Wall
by Nothing But A Blurr
Summary: Prime, AU. — Knock Out gets a visitor that just won't leave. — Knock Out / Insecticon.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not really sure where this came from and I'm guessing because you'd have to be _blind_ not to see how _**adorable**_ these two are together. If the fandom can have _Starscream/Vehicon_, then I can have _Knock Out/Insecticon_. No matter how one sided and bat shit crazy it can be. This is probably going to be a very short series, because it's going to start with the end of _Crossfire_ and end with _Tunnel Vision_. Somewhat canon faithful, but pretending that the two episodes happened a week apart, and probably insane, so review and let me know what you think!_

**.O.O.O.O.**

The medical bay had been eerily silent since the resident medic released the last of the repaired Vehicons. He had given up on removing parts from those who hadn't made it and now sat on a bench with a data pad rested loosely in his servo. He clicked the screen with a perfectly sharpened talon with little interest in the report that he had been filling out for future reference, mentally cursing the higher officers for making this mandatory.

Even though he hadn't been completely engrossed in his duty, he hadn't noticed that there was a visitor in his open work place. He hadn't picked up on the scurried footsteps, which he would later complain made no sense for how large the frame was, and certainly didn't hear the med-bay doors close behind the guest. Matter of fact, it wasn't until a large shadow loomed over his smaller frame that he was startled from his report.

"What the—" His widened, shocked optics lit up and his helm whipped upward in surprise. He leaned back from the beast that hovered in front of him, its mouth twitching as it started at him with an unreadable expression that reminded him of the mech that was more than likely the reason he wasn't relaxing peacefully in his quarters. He sneered to hide his fear of the creature and waved a servo. "Get lost."

Obviously, the medic wasn't as frightening as he wanted to be because the creature didn't even look fazed by his reaction. It even stepped forward, gears creaking under the stress of its large body. He turned his helm slightly when it knelt down slightly and gave a small series of clicks. The red mech didn't understand what it was attempting to tell him and felt unease with how close the giant was standing to him. He never liked or trusted the Insecticons as it was, even if they were loyal but dim.

"Sorry there, big guy, I can't understand you," he vented heavily to display his frustration. He couldn't help but feel aggravated by the situation; here he was trying to fill this report out before Megatron came in ranting and raving about it, and this annoying drone was wasting his time. Much to his dismay, the creature clicked again and didn't even seem to understand his irritation. Groaning, he sent a glare to the beast, "why are you even in here?"

It was silent for a moment before clicking and raising a clawed servo, extending one of the sharp talons. It was pointing at him and that unnerved the sports car to the point that he threw the beast another glare, sneering as he leaned back farther. "As flattered as I am, I'm busy," he nearly snarled despite himself. "So go away."

The beast didn't budge and it was getting far more annoying than it had before. It just stared at him but did lower its servo almost too slowly for the movement to appear normal. The medic, who was now desperate to get the insect to just leave, quickly put his signature to the data pad and shoved it towards the creature. "Take this to Lord Megatron." When it didn't move he growled at it, "Are you glitch or something? I said to take the damn data pad to Lord Mega—"

He paused when it turned and made its way towards the exit. The medic watched the beast, somewhere between disgust and curiosity, and barely noticed how it seemed to limp along. Had it come to him for repairs? He didn't quite know but it was too late to ask, and probably worthless due to him not understanding its speech patterns, because it had disappeared out of the med-bay doors. Well, at least he didn't have to face Megatron today and his visitor was gone; back to work, he supposed.

**.O.**

It was joors later that his med-bay door opened again. He didn't look up from the data that he was working on so that the crew could repair the ship as quickly as possible. He heard heavy footsteps so he automatically thought that it had been the new second in command, Dreadwing, and attempted to wave him off as he always did when he was busy. "I'm still working," he said. "I'll deliver it when I'm finished, so you can tell Megatron to be patient or he can have Soundwave do it."

When there was no response on his obviously rude statement, he knew that it hadn't been the mech that he thought it was. He lifted his helm and turned to view the last being that he expected. Standing a few feet away was the injured visitor from before, the creature staring at him blankly but its head had been tilted slightly to the side. He frowned and narrowed his optics, "What? I'm still busy, you know." it surprisingly stepped forward, the limp still drawing his attention.

"I can't repair you right now," he added as it stopped only a step away from him. He was surprised when it shifted, obviously in discomfort, and that fact was unnerving to the medic. He'd been told they were drones, lower on the food chain than even the miners, Vehicons, and Eradicons. The moment he'd inquired Megatron about them, he'd just said that they couldn't feel anything and were just mindless killers. Yet here was one that was in obvious pain and probably wanted the medic to repair it. Despite popular belief, Knock Out wasn't as completely sparkless as he appeared.

"Fine," he said with a slight snarl, motioning to a medical berth. "But you tell no one. Not the other Insecticons, or Dreadwing, or Soundwave, and especially not Megatron." Oddly enough, the creature seemed to understand for it had nodded at him and limped over to the berth, crawling up on it and sitting. The medic was somewhere between amused and annoyed when he gathered up a few tools, after placing the data pad down, and moved to the beast's side.

He began to examine the leg first, then the foot that had been attached to it. It was strange how different the set up was between them but unnerving at how similar they were also. However, none of that mattered truly because upon close inspection he'd found that the damage was far worse than he'd expected. All too familiar claw marks on the outer armor had been the least of this creature's problem, as wiring had been torn and fried, which wasn't the only thing causing the limp. An infection, rust by the looks of it, had begun to settle in and that could only mean one thing. It was a wound over an older injury that had went untreated.

"I need to put you in stasis," he concluded as a frown marred his face. "It's going to be a diffic—whoa!" He stumbled back as the creature shrieked and sat up quickly, nearly colliding with the medic. He scowled up at it as he stood, lifting a servo and readying it to strike out if need be. "Calm yourself. I don't really care about what happens to you, but obviously you won't leave me alone until the repairs are completed." The beast snarled at him, which almost made him back pedal to the doors to flee, but it was when their fields met that he realized something. It wasn't aggression that the beast was showing but fear.

The last time it had been placed in stasis, it had been abandoned until recently. It seemed frightened that it would happen again, so the medic did the only thing he knew to do at a time like this. He lied and manipulated the creature's feelings, well if it had feelings. He cooed and coaxed the giant to lay back down and allow him to complete the procedure. It was hesitate at first but soon did as he requested, long visor seemingly focused on the sports car until it dimmed and lost its glow entirely.

He turned and headed towards the small office space, past many of the offlined drones until he reached one in particular. Dreadwing, who had heard the medic's anxiety over the Insecticons, had placed the icy corpse of one back there. He knew how to push his buttons and seemed to do everything in his power to bother the sports car since the death of his partner. Probably because his friend wasn't there to stop the seeker. Breakdown had been a presence that not many could ignore, and his company in the medical hanger had been welcomed. It was unnerving with him gone.

Plucking a few delicate wires from corpse, he ventured back over to the stasis locked creature and began repairs. It was a long process and he was thankful that the brute wasn't awake for it. It was all foreign to him; wires were more flimsy compared to what he was used to and the advanced stages he found the rust substance in disturbed him. However, he somehow managed to finish the repairs and clean the area as carefully as he could, then brought the beast out of stasis.

Much to his surprise, it could it longer to come around than he had been comfortable with. Even when it had awoken, it seemed to stay on the berth but had managed to sit up. The medic shifted under its intense stare and even flinched when its visor dimmed, helm turned down and seemed to study its wound. When it turned its attention back to him, it made a noise that Knock Out didn't understand completely but took it as a thank you since it didn't seem aggressive.

"You can go now," he found himself saying as he turned abruptly. He took the data pad that he'd put aside and seated himself back down on a bench, optics focusing on the screen as he read and analyzed the information. There was movement from the direction of the beast, then heavy footsteps and just as they sounded right next to him, they stopped. He refused to look up but still frowned. "You're annoying me. I repaired you, you can go now."

However, it still didn't leave. Matter of fact, it stood there and stared at him. The medic lifted his gaze and glared at the beast, who then made another small noise and scurried by his feet. With a surprised yelp, he jumped and lifted his legs away from the creature when it collapsed forward. It took a full klik for him to realize what it was doing; laying in the spot that would have been next to his feet. He watched it for a moment, looking for any signs that signaled that it wanted to do harm.

He found none so he placed his bases back to the floor, careful not to disturb the creature. He listened to it click softly before it completely settled, seeming more relaxed now that the medic hadn't lashed out or refused its gesture. He loosened up too and leaned back, bringing the data pad back up to optic level. Despite not being able to understand his visitor and possibly not be able to communicate with it, it seemed to fill the silence that Breakdown's death left behind. The sound of its systems humming created a peace that he felt thrilled to have back, and suddenly he didn't mind that it wouldn't leave.

**.O.**

Later that cycle, Dreadwing had been ordered to enter the medical bay to check on Knock Out's progress on the repair plans. Megatron's patience was running thin and he planned on telling the medic just that. Maybe then the lazy aft would do something other than gossip and be all around annoying. He didn't bother to knock, as it was the med-bay and open to all, but when he went into it he was surprised at what he found. He suddenly wished he had at least given some warning so he wouldn't have had to see this. Whatever this was.

Recharging lightly on a bench, the medic had a data loosely gripped in one servo. The other dangled off his frame and seat, resting lightly on the helm of an Insecticon. The creature was resting on the floor, visor offline and systems running lightly, probably in a recharge mode as well. There was nothing bitter coming from the mech's aura, like it had been since he'd arrived, or even mischievous. It was a strange sight, probably not the strangest he'd seen in this particular room, but it didn't make it feel anymore right.

Deciding that enough was enough, the seeker stepped forward to wake the medic and get the show back on the road. However, as soon as his base hit the floor of the med-bay, the creature's visor lit up and its helm lifted. The two powerful beings exchanged looks; its expression unreadable while Dreadwing's was glaring and demanding respect. He didn't get it and he was growled at, the noise low and warning of danger, and hinting at the pain that the beast could inflict on him.

Dreadwing twitched. He couldn't believe his luck, but still decided to humor the creature. Well, maybe it did frighten him a bit because he'd seen what they could do when angered, and that growl hinted at anger. So, the seeker turned sharply and exited the med-bay. Megatron didn't need that plan right now, and it was possibly better that the medic did get some recharge. And if Megatron disagreed, he could go and wake him, and deal with his little attack dog.

**.O.O.O.O.**

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_I know this chapter is a little late, but have no fears I didn't abandoned it! There was just so much going on and let me tell you, I was surprised when I logged on to see how many reviews it'd gotten. You have no idea how happy I was at that moment in time, so I started typing up this chapter and more reviews had come. So I wrote more, and in the end, it was too long for my liking. I did the only thing I knew how, I split a super long chapter into two parts. This one and one that will be posted either later tonight or tomorrow sometime. It all matters on how my kittens feel after they get clipped today. I will warn you all that the next part is going to be a bit of me just fooling with emotions and just seeing how things play out. _

_And before you ask, no, I did not come up with the number thing for the Vehicons, duh. It's just, everyone does that and I figure its the most logical thing. They are drones to most, despite seemingly being able to speak, think, and feel. So yeah. _**#320**_ is going to be very important to this story and nearly be a main character! He's going to get to be a bit of a jerk in upcoming chapters. Love is what we'll have for him. ;]  
_

_Let me know what you think thus far!  
_

_And quickly;;  
Vorns: 1 Cybertronian Year | 83 Earth years  
Joor: 1 Hour  
It's probably wrong, but I, _at least_, **attempted** to look it up.  
_

**.O.O.O.O.**

The medic half focused on the data pad he was working on and half watched the creature that lay at his feet. It was recharging peacefully, not even a twitch came from it, and its very presence surprised him. He didn't expect it to stay throughout the night with him, especially in that position, but it was somewhat relaxing to have the company of another. Although he would never admit it, he missed having a partner after so many vorns with Breakdown. It beat working in silence as he had been for so long now.

He feared awaking the beast, as it would probably return to its brethren, but his energon levels were lower than he was comfortable with. He would normally had asked his partner to get him his morning ration, but the brute was long offline and he had to make a choice. One was to get off his aft and make his way out of his medical bay, risk getting caught by Megatron without the plans set up. The second had been to send his little visitor, who seemed a bit wiser than the crew had been told, to get what he needed. Needless to say, his decision was made quickly.

The shiny red sports car shifted his foot and gave the Insecticon a swift kick to its side. It didn't even flinch and certainly didn't lash out at him. Matter of fact, much to the medic's dismay, it just cycled its systems gently and rolled over on its side. It was, well needless to say, annoying so he decided to something he knew he would regret but didn't rightfully care right now. He stood and hovered over the Insecticon, then gave it another swift kick to its torso. It was a bit harder this time but still didn't seem to bother it.

Now he was frustrated. He drew back his foot once more and connected it with the beast's torso harder. This time it grunted and curled, as if it had a small ache in its tank but nothing more. Annoyance growing, he released a small growl noise from his vocal processor and kicked it again, and again, and again. All the creature seemed to do was grunt and barely so much as twitch a finger, and after that he brought back his foot and aimed to its idiotic helm.

"Knock Out," came the annoyed yet almost amused voice of his high commander. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The poor medic nearly fell backwards at the sound of the warlord's voice. He spun around after planting his foot back to the ground, hands lifted and optics bright and wide with surprise. "Lord Megatron," he almost chirped out as he flashed a sheepish little grin. "I didn't expect to have your pleasant company!"

"Do not make me repeat myself."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that," he said snidely. He tumbled back moments later when the other mech towered over him, leaning in with an annoyed growl. He flinched when his back struts slammed against the rough edge, barely noticing that his little pet had awoken and began watching the scene play out. "I was just attempting to wake it, master."

"And what is it doing here?"

"Oh well," he started then glanced over at the Insecticon, who seemed to be staring at Megatron with a malice. He couldn't exactly see the loathing but he could nearly feel it pooling off of the beast, and that in itself was annoying and unnerving. He jumped a bit when Megatron growled, impatient as ever. He finished with a cynical smirk, "I repaired it and it wouldn't leave. I think it has come to like me!"

"I think you've lost what little processor you have," he snarled before taking another step forward, the medic's and his frames nearly touching. He was not in the least bit surprised when the sports car climbed up and over the bench he'd been seated on, as if the object would be a barrier between them. He added in a growl, "It is just a drone. It has no feelings, so it is impossible to like you. Order it out of here and get back to work on my plans."

"Of course, my Lord," he bite back the venom that threatened to slip into his tone. Since Breakdown's death, Megatron had become rougher with the medic and far more disrespectful. If the loss of his only company on the Nemesis was not enough, the warlord seemed to be punishing him for it as well and Knock Out hated it. After all, it hadn't been Knock Out's fault, and if anything it'd been Megatron's or Dreadwing's which explained why he'd come to despise them more and more each day. "I'll get him out as soon as possible."

"Him," the warlord inquired, mocking the medic. He smirked when the cherry red mech nearly flinched at his trivial mistake, one he only made because of his thoughts of Breakdown. He'd never admit it but the Insecticon had began to remind him of the former Wrecker. "I expect it to be gone when I return for those plans."

Knock Out just nodded and bit back a retort, noting how the Insecticon seemed to growl a few feet away. Either the Warlord didn't care or just didn't notice, because the large Decepticon turned and exited the medical bay. He didn't so much as move for several moments, just staring at the now-closed doors that his leader had just exited. The more times the former gladiator visited, along with that blue seeker, he began to miss the days when Starscream had been the high commander or even around. At least with Starscream's reign, Breakdown was there and everything seemed less…

The medic shook his helm, chasing away thoughts before flopping down on the bench. He grabbed the data pad and attempted to ignore the way his tanks clenched and twisted, rage and a foreign emotion raged through his pulsing spark. He turned his helm just in time to see the creature had moved to his side in a protective manner that was just too familiar. He frowned deeply and sneered over at it, just wanting it to disappear into the nothingness. "Go away," he demanded but it ignored him. So he went for the second thing that came to his processor.

"Fine," he snapped and turned his attention to the data pad once more. "if you're going to stay here than you're going to useful, drone. Go to the main hall and fetch a cube of energon for me." Much to his surprise, but maybe it shouldn't have shocked him, the Insecticon clicked lightly and left his side. He vaguely watched as it headed to the door and exited as well, abandoning him in the silence of his medical bay. A part of Knock Out wondered if this was so bad, but another darker part just wanted to rip apart the beast. It didn't deserve to be here, because it wasn't his partner.

**.O.**

An Energon Cube and a few joors later, the medic paced the floor with his optics focused on the data pad in his grasp. The plans were complete now and Megatron would be happy, but only about that. No matter how many times he recalculated the time and growled, nearly kicking the Insecticon that rested nearby on many occasions, it would still take nearly three Earth days to complete the repairs to the ship enough to at least get it into the air. Primus only knew how long every other repair would take, even with the horde of drones to do all the work.

These were the times when he needed Breakdown the most. He was almost like a voice of reason in Knock Out's overworked and often insane processor, mostly due to his paranoia that he often hid except with his partner. It kept the medic out of trouble for the most part, and one of the reason their partnership worked as well as it did; Breakdown's paranoid nature played well off of Knock Out's scorn. The former Wrecker's brute strength backed up Knock Out's never muted vocal processor. They'd been perfect together until they were torn apart by death, and now everything was falling apart. All because he couldn't function without monstrous strength to back him up, and another to encourage the correct direction for his behavior.

Now there was only one who remained in the medical bay, besides Knock Out, and he glanced over at it. His crimson optics scanned over the brutish frame that sat on a berth. It was staring at him with that glowing visor attached to its helm, mouth pieces moving eerily slow and even clanged together. He cringed in disgust before placing a clawed servo to his hip armor and then leaned forward, sneering at the beast before him. "It's time that you be useful again," he nearly snarled at it. "Think you can handle another simple task?"

He was not nearly as surprised as he felt he should have been when the beast lifted itself off the berth. It was soon at his side, visor bright with excitement and towering over him. He nearly smiled, although he would never admit it, at the sight of it. The height alone reminded him vaguely of his partner and the way it almost seemed eager to please him. The thought had to be pushed away because it was unlawful to his assistant to even think such things.

"Oh, you think you can do it," he purred, tone dripping with sarcasm. He watched as the Insecticon nodded stiffly and its mouth twitched, with light clicks echoing from its massive frame. He honestly couldn't believe that he was about to do this. It was different with the other times he called upon his visitor to do things for him. It wasn't as important as this fragile data pad, but it wouldn't back down just yet. Not now anyway. He scowled at it before he shot his hand out, holding the data pad towards it. "I want you to take this to Lord Megatron. It's his precious plans for repairs so don't frag this up."

It didn't surprise him when the beast nabbed the data pad and turned. Neither of them spoke as it advanced through the room, Knock Out having to fight the urge to stop it when he noticed it was limping ever so slightly. Taking a step forward, he muted his vocal processor so he didn't call out and forced himself just to watch it exit. The doors shutting behind it, he made a silent promise to his former partner that if the Insecticon came back, he would check the leg out again.

**.O.**

With his talons deep within the knee joint of a Vehicon, the medic focused on the light work repairs that had come in most of the day. The Insecticon hadn't returned yet but he tried not to be too concerned, because he had other things to worry about. Like why a Vehicon had limped the entire way to the medical bay, on his own, over something that could have been repaired by the drone. Just a few wires that had disconnected from their ports, only needing to be plugged back in. Knock Out was honestly curious. It looked like it'd been done by the Vehicon.

"So," he paused to scan the signature field of the Vehicon, recognizing it right away. This had been one of the drones that often followed the medic after Breakdown's death, and often visited with fuel or assisted wounded. It was embarrassing that a drone seemed to notice how off he'd been and no one else does. "Just how did you manage to receive such simple damage?"

"Uh," the drone, Vehicon #320, stuttered, "We we-were just pl-playing around. Number 409 got a li-little rough!"

"Interesting," he commented dryly, not believing the excuse. He closed the armor and turned, motioning subtly for the drone to stay put as he made his way over to the computer system. A few key strokes later, he smirked and turned back to the berth where his patient sat nervously. He leaned back against the system, arms folding as he spoke, "That's odd. 409 is on duty, has been for more than a joor. Command station no less."

The drone's shoulders dipped down, guilt swirling in his field. "I…"

"What happened," he questioned again, a little rougher than the first time.

"I tripped," he mumbled, sinking into himself.

This reminded Knock Out of Breakdown after M.E.C.H. incident that still was a bit fuzzy to the medic. The embarrassment that his assistant had felt at the unlucky situation, even how he stretched the truth. It was green paint transfers that gave away the stupid cover story that the brute had told, but Knock Out never told him that. He just let him lie and pretended to believe every word, because he was just happy that his medical bay was no longer as quiet as it had been and the others stopped looking at him like that.

"And why didn't you do your own repairs," he inquired in a deeper, darker tone. The poor drone field spiked with horror at being caught and stuttering quietly, not making any sensible statements whatsoever. It pleased him to see this and how much control he seemed to have over the situation. "Well?"

"I just wanted to see it," he blurted out, optics brightening with fright.

"What," a confused Knock Out countered. "What are you talking about? See what?"

"The Insecticon," the drone answered. The medic's frame froze, processor racing with every single thing that could go wrong in the situation. He wanted to lash out, even just vocally, but nothing was responding. The Vehicon seemed to take his silence as confusion because he added quickly, "I over heard Commander Dreadwing and Lord Megatron speaking about it. I just wanted to see if you really had one of those things in here or not. By the looks of it you don't."

"Obviously," he snorted, finally pulling himself together. "As you can see, the creature is not here and he won't be either, so now that you're repaired, you can leave with your petty answer, drone."

It was an odd day when #320 didn't bicker the slightest about leaving the medic alone, but today seemed like one of those days. The drone shifted and slid off of the berth, standing up straight before glancing over at the other. It seemed like he wanted to say something. However he didn't, he just advanced through the medical bay without a word or another glance towards him. It was only after the doors were closed that Knock Out felt the loneliness of the empty bay and realizing that maybe the drone was tired, tired of him.

He turned away from the door and to the system that lined the wall. He focused on the screen and with unconscious movements, he typed in a few keys. The view changed instantly and he found a smirk coming across his previously annoyed expression. His optics remained on the video that played, one that was recorded long ago from the cameras that lined nearly every inch of the Nemesis. Partners working quietly, removing spare parts from deactivated drones that were brought back.

"Knock Out." His spark squeezed painfully in its chamber at the voice but didn't move. He just stared at the screen, ignoring the being in the doorway. There was nothing else for a moment or two before Breakdown's voice echoed through the silence once more, "Knock Out."

"What is it, Soundwave?"

"Retrieve Knock Out," Megatron's voice bounced off the walls.

"Right," he sneered as he paused the video. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

_Yeah, I know this should have been out sooner but I had to rewrite it a bit because I noticed that leaving it off where I had would just be annoying. I found that the last 'part' of this chapter, the original one, would have been a better beginning for the next chapter. So that means that the next chapter is a fourth of the way done, so don't be surprised if it's posted sooner than the normal few days. Why did I notice this, you might be wondering, because we've had storms lately. Which knocked out [no pun intended] the power off and one, and it was frustrating so I got to play with the story a bit. Just enjoy!_

_Side note: Thank you all for the support in this fanfic. It means a lot to me and keeps me going with the storyline, even though its all plotted out in my head and I know exactly what I want to do with it. You guys are the awesome and just thanks for everything. I hope this little peak of insanity keeps you guys coming back._

_._**O.O.O.O.**

When Knock Out entered the control room, he knew that his world was about to come crashing down for the second time. He paused in the doorway, no longer falling the utterly silent communications officer. His red optics narrowed with malice as he stared at the former Gladiator, who stood with his back to him. He fought every urge so that he would not look at the new second in command that wore an expression that clearly read that he was in for some trouble at this point. It was then that he wished, yet again, that Breakdown had been there, because he wouldn't have to face this little session alone. He would even stand for the Insecticon, who seemed to wish for him to stay functional at whatever cost it took.

Steeling himself, Knock Out stepped completely through the door and advanced towards the middle of the command room. He ignored the sound of the doors whooshing closed and a grunt from Dreadwing. He soon stood completely still, optics finally doing a quick sweep of the area to find that it was only the four of them present, which was rare. Even if this happened to be punishment, Megatron wouldn't have chased the drones out. It was a known fact that he entire showing just how much control he had over his troops, officers included.

Just when the medic had thought he was safe from deactivation, the warlord growled lowly and turned swiftly. It startled him enough to take a step back, optics widened in surprise, but he could not recover fast enough. Before he could full process what was happening, the silver gladiator's torso was inches from leaving grey traces in cherry red finish. He leaned back in a vain attempt to keep himself from being touched, as Megatron lashed out and wrapped sharp talons around his neck.

"Medic," he sneered as he ignored his captive's ineffective attempts at escape. His optics narrowed dangerously and his field erupted in anger, wrapping around and choking the weaker of the pair. He used his free hand to slam the data pad he'd been holding against the a perfect finished chest. He snarled at the squirming medic and he shoved him back, releasing his tight grip. "Just what is that!"

"It's-It's," he stuttered as his own claws wrapped around the item that had been shoved at him. His optics darted down and the first symbol on the screen let him know exactly what it was, and he knew that things were only going to get worse from here. Especially when the doors opened and in stepped two Insecticons and a few select drones, and with a quick glance at a rusting leg he knew that this was not going to end well. However, Knock Out would never give the warlord an ouch of satisfaction. He sneered lightly, "It's the plans for the ship's repairs, mein herr."

Pain erupted through his sensory net, the medic's back slammed against the thick metal wall behind him. He offlined his vocal processor to prevent the yelp that would have surely followed. His optics flickered and all he could hear was static, the white noise echoing through his processor like it had the first time he attempted to use his communication link with Breakdown after his death. Even though it only lasted a moment, it ripped open old mental wounds that were barely healing. He leaned forward, holding his midsection in a vain attempt to calm the pain, gaze turning to the area to inspect the damage he'd taken.

"I have excused many of your mistakes and failures, Knock Out," the warlord growled as he towered over the fallen medic. He reached out and grabbed his chin, ripping his helm upward so that their gazes met. He watched with hidden glee as the smaller mech squirmed. "You've never been the best soldier, but you weren't the worst either. More times than not, you completed the mission and did as you were told. Or maybe that was Breakdown's doing."

Knock Out's optics widened and he attempted to look away. He couldn't though, the Warlord just tightened his grip on his face. Sharp talons scraped against fine metal, leaving behind trails of scratches and marring perfection. Megatron was baiting him, he knew that now but didn't know why. This had nothing to do with his 'failures' or the plans that the Insecticon delivered, he could see that in those dangerous orbs that glared down at him. "Lord Mega—"

"Soundwave," the gladiator called out, not breaking eye contact with the smaller.

"You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

His entire frame stiffened at the recording. Megatron knew, he realized quickly, about Starscream's offer and Knock Out's acceptance. He knew about Knock Out's betrayal, and how easy his answer came. "It's not what it seems," he added quickly, "I was just—" pain blossomed through his sensory net yet again, his helm whipped to one side after a curled servo struck him. His systems hissed as he lurched forward and spat out a mouthful of energon. He had attempted to run a scan to see the damage but a familiar growl had distracted him. He turned his helm just in time to see his medical bay visitor snarling at their leader.

"What is this," Megatron growled lowly.

Not a soul looked away from the Insecticon. Its helm lowered and snarling, back arched slightly as if it were a feline. It took a step forward, feelers around its mouth moving aggressively before the other creature reached out and grasped its shoulder. Surprisingly, the two beings seemed to be bickering in their native languages; clicks and static noises echoed through the otherwise silent room. It was shocking to Knock Out, watching how his leader's fury melted into mild amusement and curiosity, but the moment ended quickly. The larger of the pair, Knock Out was amazed that there was such a difference, turned to Megatron.

"We apologize for our behavior," it said, seeming to ask for forgiveness for its brethren. When Megatron grunted, neither accepting or denying the apology, the larger of the two Insecticons hissed at he smaller and grabbed its arm. Talons pierced through tough metal, there was a whine of pain that echoed through the tense air. It was surprise when the medic's former, and probably future, patient was dragged out of the command center. However, before they disappeared, there was a dark hiss from the larger, "Punishment is in order."

A deafening silence took over the room. Soundwave stood with his helm turned to the door, visor blank and frame motionless. Megatron wore a smirk that unnerved the doctor, who hadn't moved from his spot despite knowing that he should. He hadn't noticed that the uncharacteristic amusement had left the warlord. The silver mech turned and in a swift movement grasped the delicate throat of the medic, hoisting him to his feet and slamming him against the wall. "Mega-megatron!"

"Such perfect little servos," the warlord snarled as he captured one. Knock Out shuddered as the larger Decepticon examined them, or at least pretended to, and soon he was tossed towards the door. A low growl vibrated through the silver's throat and chest, he took a menacing step forward. "Too bad you will be working them down to the struts along side the drones."

"What," the medic gawked, intakes stalling. Violence was something that he could take and the aftermath could be repaired, with the help of Breakdown in the past and now 320. However, stripping him of his rank, even just for these repairs, and forcing him to work along side the drones was possibly worse than death. It left marks that shouldn't be repaired as easily as hostility. It was cruel and all in the room knew it, especially the higher ranked officers that were in the room with them.

"You are banned from the medbay unless it is an extreme emergency. You are finally going to work, pull your own weight," he sneered with a slight rumble of a growl. He turned his back to the crimson sports car, locking his fiery gaze on his communications officers. He spoke with dark amusement, "Alert the others, Soundwave, that if they see our medic doing anything but manual work they are to report it to Dreadwing. My Second in Command will handle the situation, won't you, Dreadwing?"

"… yes, sir," came a hesitant mumble from the Second.

"Dismissed," he added to the medic, after Soundwave turned back to the keys and began to send the message.

Wordlessly, the sports car pulled himself to his feet and turned, exiting without even looking back. He could hear another set of footsteps echoing behind him, but he couldn't find it in himself to glance back. He just sped up slightly and ignored the stalling of his intakes as fear, anger, and hurt gripped his spark. He was only stopped when pressure came to his shoulder and his head turned, glowing optics focusing on the worried glimmering of a ruby visor. He growled for reasons unknown to even him; "320?"

"It'll be okay, doc," the Vehicon said, without even cringing at the snarl. He slid his servo from the medic's shoulder and down his arm, in a comforting gesture, before wrapping his talons around the wrist joint as gently as possible. "Come on, let's—"

"I don't need to be coddled," he snapped as he ripped himself from his grasp. He didn't either, at least, not by the drone. He needed Breakdown to be here, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay and that he would handle it all. And he would have because that's what his partner did; he would take care of everything, make sure that Knock Out didn't have to work more than what he was used to. However, he was offline, never going to return, and that burnt at his spark and the guilt and hurt attempted to strangle it.

"Knock Out?" The medical officer shook his helm and watched the drone, frame tensing at the gentle tone. He felt his lip component curl, baring his teeth at them, before he noticed the aura around the young Vehicon change to something concerned. He hated it, but it seemed that the smaller Decepticon was not quite finished annoying him yet. "We should get to work. Lord Megatron probably is already alerting the others of the plans, so…"

Knock Out turned and started down the hall, not allowing the other to finish because he already knew what was going to be said. It was obvious that they just needed to get to work. The faster they got it done, the sooner he'd get his rank back and could just hideout in the medical bay without another thought. He could go back to pretending that nothing was wrong, that his only friend was only a commlink away. _Just have to make it through this first, then everything would be okay,_ he reassured himself.


	4. Chapter 4

_I tossed what I'd originally planned for this chapter then wrote out what you see now but I got busy with other things, and didn't get a chance to upload this for some time. Sorry about that. My personal life can be a pain at times but always comes first. Just know that I would never abandon this fic, even if the waiting is insane I'll come back and post in a matter of time. If you think I'm taking too long, drop me a private message and make me laugh. It just might make my day and remind me to stop being lazy!_

_Not that I need to mention it but new episode today! I'm really excited for it and I'm hoping that we see more Insecticons, as I'm starting to obsess over those guys. I kind of want to have one as a pet, thanks to this story's outline in my notebook. I would also like to add that this Insecticon is going to get a name soon, probably in the next chapter. I'm thinking that maybe this new episode tonight will give me inspiration to get that chapter out right away._

_Also, thank you all for your support of this fic. It makes me smile and I have a feeling that the next chapter is going to drive everyone a little mad. It was fun to plan out farther but I'm thinking I may need to water it down a little so that it stays within the guidelines of this site. Anyway, keep the support coming. Tell me what you love and what you hate thus far! _

**.O.O.O.O.O.**

The halls were filled with the whispers of faceless drones as they exchanged rumors about the medic. Yesterday and today the mech had been knelt down next to a few of them, working quietly at wiring with skilled hands and fingers in effortless movements. Few really knew why he was there so they made up stories; a personal favorite of the entire crew of workers was that #320 had conned him into doing so, with sleazy words and matching actions. a small amount of them had taken to another rumor that the good doctor had outlived his value as an officer and would join them in more than just this labor. Both claims were backed up when #320 had dragged a tired Knock Out to the drones' quarters and shared a berth.

How Knock Out managed to drown out the words amazed even the previously mentioned drone, who was currently watching as he sliced a wire and replaced the damaged area. Neither spoke as they worked side by side, but there was nothing that the Vehicon wanted to do more right now. He even went as far as to bump shoulders with the medic, in some sad attempt to make him angry. It didn't work and he was completely ignored, just as he was the day before and even when he led the red sports car around.

Becoming a bit unsettled with silence of the normally flamboyant medic, the drone paused in his own work and scouted around for any of the officers. He flinched when his sights settled on Soundwave's frame turning a corner, then disappearing from view. He waited a few moments and even turned his attention to his work, hooking a few newly repaired wires into place, before he was sure that the communications officer was gone. He tensed as he hovered lanky digits over wiring and turned his helm ever so slightly. "Knock Out," he said softly, earning a grunt from the medic. "If you want to return to the medical bay, I'll cover for you."

"I'm fine," he replied, voice a bit darker than the norm. It was a hint to leave him alone but it seemed that the drone never did do as expected out of him. The medic felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to rip his gaze from his work and to the drone. He sneered, "What?"

"Uh… are you sure," the fidgety drone questioned in response. When the medic just stared at him, he flinched and shook his head, disconnecting the touch. He stuttered out, "I-I mean, are-are you sure that yo-you're fi-fine!" Had it been a different time and place, Knock Out would have scowled and shrugged the question away or made a snide remark that would have burnt. However the officer couldn't.

"Yes, I'm sure," he muttered, field spiking a warning. It appeared that the Vehicon had understood this time and both went back to work. Somewhat relieved, the medic followed suit and continued to remove then replace various wires and panels. The pair continued their duties from some time, probably three joors, before a hand wrapped around his shoulder. Knock Out whipped around with a sneer, "What do you—oh, Dreadwing."

"I am here to retrieve you," the Decepticon second-in-command announced, his wings straight back to display a tense emotion. If this had been Starscream, who was dearly missed by some deep seeded part of Knock Out, it would be the time that the sports car would have ran because his own aft was in danger. Thankfully, it wasn't and, with little things he was picking up about this new seeker, it meant that he was mildly annoyed. "If you would—"

"Lead the way, Mein Kommandant," the medic's voice rumbled in his chest. He pushed off the floor and spared a sneering glance at the vehicon next to him. There was a twisted sense of joy when the drone flinched and scooted away from him. Ignoring his desire to smirk shamelessly, the medic turned to the seeker and began to follow after him down the long hall. "So who sent you? One of the drones injured again?"

"Megatron's orders were to retrieve you and deliver you to the Medical Bay." The seeker's answer caused whatever confidence that Knock Out had to drift away. His intake stalled momentarily and frame tensed, and it seemed that the flier noticed this. The blue mech's wings shifted and he spoke gruffly, "Don't worry, Medic. Megatron is in the control room."

It didn't make him feel much better but he managed to pull himself together long enough to ask; "and just what am I to do there?"

"You'll see when we get there," the seeker answered simply, turning a corner.

"Of course..." That certainly didn't put his mind to ease either. Actually, that had to be the least helpful thing ever said to him, besides whatever the drones babbled on about daily. However, now that he thought about those drones, at least they answered to the best of their abilities when asked a question. Of course they never knew much but still it was better than this.

There was nothing else said as the pair moved through the long corridors, past various drones and even Soundwave. The medic sent him a long glare, still infuriated over the use of his deceased partner's voice, but it was ignored by the silent mech. He didn't expect much else, and even if he had reacted, Knock Out knew that it wouldn't make him feel any better. But it had been worth a shot, no matter how small the chances were.

When they'd finally reached the med-bay, Knock Out reached over to tap in the code to open the door since Dreadwing had not, but was stopped by the seeker's massive hand wrapping around his wrist. He whipped his helm around, gaze tore from the key-guard and settling on the blue flier—a navy color that was so close yet so far from one that he missed dearly. He gave a small snarl, not wanting him to touch him, and opened his mouth to spit out a nasty retort.

"You can't go in without being protected," the seeker stated before he could even utter a word. "If you refuse, you will have to remain in quarantine."

"What are you talking about," Knock Out snapped as he pulled himself from the flier's grasp.

"It appears that there may be an outbreak of Cosmic Rust," Dreadwing announced, glancing to the door. "Your little pet Insecticon began showing signs in the early joors of this cycle. We quarantined it into the med-bay for observation, and approximately a joor ago it was checked on. The drone reported that its condition had worsened."

Knock Out scowled, "So Megatron sent for me."

"Correct. Your orders are simple, determine whether it is Cosmic Rust or something else., give whatever treatment you see fit," he replied.

"I see," he sneered, silently scolding himself for seeming too much like the former commander.

Dreadwing was not fazed by this and added, "Follow me then, and I will make certain that you are protected."

"Lead the way," he added, words dripping in sarcasm and frame bowed.

**.O.**

Feeling the invisible liquid falling and covering his frame, the medic pulled an annoyed face but remained still so that he wasn't scolded by the seeker again. He still glared mentally and pictured ripping the larger mech apart for not warning him of how annoying this would be. He'd just been led to the lab and placed in a chamber, soon attacked by sprayers. This was no where near fun, but was close to being over he was sure.

Sure enough, the sprayers shut down and slid back into the walls, and the doors opened. Knock Out huffed and stepped out of the chamber, giving the seeker an annoyed glower. The other mech was unfazed by this and remained leaning against the wall by the controls. He marched over, careful not to disturb the drying process so he wouldn't have to go through it again, and stopped in front of him.

"I didn't even know these were down here," he snorted, losing his sarcastic retort upon noticing the seeker's glance. It was too kind and too all-knowing, and just plain annoying.

"Then you must have never been to the labs before."

"I wasn't," he snapped, optics narrowed at that amused little sparkle in the flier's optics. "It was always Starscream's domain, since he was the scientist." Oddly enough, Knock Out instantly regretted bringing up the former second-in-command when the pair of red optics staring at him dimmed.

"I see." the tone seemed dead and distance, and Knock Out didn't like it. It made the medic wonder, though, just what their past was, and there was no denying with that look that there wasn't. Dreadwing added, "Starscream was always an excellent scientist."

"I suppose," he replied, clearing his thoughts. He didn't want to continue thinking about the 'what if's involving seekers. It was annoying at any rate and the more that he stood there, waiting for the liquid to harden, the more he thought about it. More than annoying actually, irritating. "Is it dry yet?"

"Give it a moment," Dreadwing scolded, sliding right back into his commanding mode. It was a little unusual from the other officers, but Knock Out had more important things to worry about. "Patience is the key."

"Of course," he snorted and crossed his arms, glaring to the side.

"Do you remember the override code for a quarantine?"

"Yes," he hissed, growing more annoyed. He hadn't a chance to use it but he couldn't forget it, since it'd been changed from the date that he had joined the Decepticon cause to the date that the humans had taken Breakdown. His partner had always asked why and he would lie, telling him that it was randomly chosen by the computer system. However, the truth was that he'd changed it to the date that had been burnt into his memory core—the first time he'd let Breakdown down.

He'd been able to repair all of the damage but the one thing that seemed to disturb his partner the most. His optical sensor. He became touchy about it in an attempt to hide the truth. He didn't feel attractive without it or even useful since he'd been taken, and no matter what Knock Out tried fixed the emotional problems that followed.

He hadn't been there to protect his overgrown companion and his lost an optic and his pride. He'd let him down. Then, the next time he wasn't there, because Dreadwing was to only take one other warrior than himself, and Breakdown lost his life. There was no way to express how much he'd let him down that time, and—

"I never had a chance to apologize to you," the seeker interrupted the medic's inner thoughts in a quieter tone.

Knock Out frowned, "For what?"

"For Breakdown," he answered. The medic's intakes stalled for momentarily, because of his previous thoughts on his partner and Dreadwing brought this up, but the delay long enough for the seeker to take a worried step forward. The flier was stopped when there was a glare and his systems caught up with the situation. Taking the following silence as a sign to continue, he did, "I had tried to warn him, but couldn't stop him. I wish I had."

"Yeah," he remarked, just wanting the commander to shut up. He didn't get the hint.

"I know what it is like to lose someone close to this war, so if you wish—"

"You may think you know but you don't. I get it, you lost your twin, the other-half to your spark, but this was different," the medic interrupted, glaring as he felt rage nip at his spark. "Now, I think this is dry now, so I'm going to do my job."

"I—" Dreadwing did not get to finish as the sports car marched out of the lab, disappearing from his sight. He frowned, somewhere between dampened spirits and annoyance that he was disrespected, but didn't chase after him to correct the problem. He had felt the mixture of emotions in the medic's energy field and didn't believe that pressing his luck would be wise.

**.O.**

Within the control room, Megatron stood with his back to the door and staring out the window. He narrowed his optics at the sand that surrounded their fallen ship and clenched his servos into fists, sharp talons digging into his palms. He could hear the metal denting under the intense pressure but ignored it, hearing the door to the room open. He didn't turn to face the creature that advanced inside and to his side.

"You summoned me," the beast stated, as if announce his presence.

"Yes, of course," the Decepticon lord replied, opening his servos and raising his shoulders. "I am in need of the information you collected on our current situation."

"I have done what you desired, my lord," he spoke calmly, clearly without hive instincts and in the Decepticons native tongue. "I ordered my scouts to examine our quarters and they reported back there was no signs of the rust. None of the hive, but the one, show signs."

"We are lucky then, as none of my soldiers are infected as well," the warlord announced, turning his head to stare at the insecticon. "Soundwave reported that other areas of the ship are not infected also. It maybe that it was contracted before coming to the Nemesis."

"Possibly. The hive was in stasis for quite some time," he replied, visor brightened with annoyance. He did not enjoy being pinned like this, whether this Decepticon was his master now or not. However, it was a possibility that the smaller Insecticon had brought the illness with it. "The weakest were released later."

"Was it one of them," he questioned, uncaring if he offended the other. He had nothing to prove to this creature, as it was nothing more than a lowly drone compared him to.

"Affirmative." The insecticon did not seem upset by the former gladiator's choice of words, which lacked any courteous. Not that such was expected from someone such as Megatron. Matter of fact, he wore a smirk as he bowed his head."Is that all my lord?"

"One more thing before you are excused," he paused upon noticing how curious the Insecticon seemed by this. "If it is cosmic rust then my medic may put it out of its misery. Would this upset you and the rest of the hive?"

"No, it would not. Do as you and your medic see fit," he answered truthfully. It didn't matter since the infected Insecticon was not the strongest of even the lowest ranks, so there was no need to keep it if it was too much trouble to repair. However, the hive leader lingered a bit to see if the warlord needed anything else. He was waved off easily and quickly made his exit, heading back to their quarters, leaving the Decepticon leader alone once more.

Once the creature was gone, Soundwave had entered and moved to his master's side. Megatron was silent for a moment as he turned his head, optics focused on the quiet gladiator. He frowned and his attention returned to the window, clawed servos clasping behind his back in thought. The other mech seemed to notice since he stepped forward and his gaze moved from the warlord and settled on the window as well.

"What is the report on the Insecticon," Megatron inquired, somewhere between mild curiosity and annoyance.

_"Knock Out has been retrieved and given the proper protection,"_ Dreadwing's recording played, _"he will be at the med-bay soon. I will make certain that a report is given when he finishes."_

"Good," he replied, although a bit discouraged that it'd been a recording instead of the officer's actually speech. Not many had been given the trust required to hear his voice, and Megatron was among those trusted. It gave him an odd pleasure to hear it, even increasing his already enlarged ego. "You are dismissed." Unsurprisingly, the officer didn't and wouldn't until the ping from Dreadwing would come.


	5. Chapter 5

_I rewrote this chapter six different times in hopes to have something that was worth posting, since I have a lot of pressure to make this good. (you guys and your reviews get me all nervous, it is a really pathetic story of my oddities, but do keep them coming because I love them.) I'm not even sure if I like this chapter as it is, but its going in the way that I want it. I'm probably just being too critical of my own work, which I happen to do a lot of the time because I'm a nutjob. _

_I mean, I had to split the original chapter into two, because of the word count wasn't close to what I normally post in this particular fic. I really have no idea how you guys put up with me. Cutting chapters up because of insanity, suddenly becoming shy when it comes to answering reviews, rewrites from Hell, and random drop offs from the previously mentioned cuts. If you saw the behind the scenes crap, you'd swear this was a circus. _

_In other news, this story will be coming to an end sooner than I thought. However, don't get too sad. I have ideas brewing away for possible future sub-stories and other insanities that I shouldn't be thinking of this soon. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and look out for the next one soon. (because its already written.)_

**.O.O.O.O.**

The isolated medical bay was quiet, save for the few beeping machines that were monitoring the patient and the flickering of the lights above. The silence didn't matter to the Insecticon though. His sensory net exploded with pain that worsened every moment that he lied there. The examination table gave a tiny squeak of protest when the beast attempted to curl in on himself, visor offlined with pure agony.

He wanted the medic, the one he couldn't remember the name of but made his pain disappear last time. He needed the red sports car to do it again, and would give up anything for it to happen. There was a part of him that wanted to call out for him, to beg him to return and take care of him, but there was one thing stopping him. As the last time he'd made a noise, two of those faceless drones had come in, then proceeded to mock him and jab sharp talons into his seams.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the medical bay doors opening. He onlined his optics, the visor flashing crimson, but vision blurred with pain and illness. He could see a familiar red entering the quarantined room and over to his berth. He struggled to sit up but still failed, pain blinding him and his sensory net seemed to burn with it. He released a whimper mixed with a groan and soon felt sharp clawed servos on his chest, pressing him back against the berth.

"Easy there," came the smooth voice that he'd been yearning to hear. "You're going to tumble right off the table."

He wanted to say something, anything, though he found that he couldn't activate his vocal processor, but even if he could he knew that the other would not understand. It was strange and finding that he could only watch the medic was foreign. However, that is exactly what he did. He barely could make out the curve of the red Decepticon's lips, the way he turned and his frame swayed in a particular spot that, in a different situation, would have heated the Insecticon's frame.

Watching him turn and walk, the Insecticon fought against the urge to sit up and try to follow him, despite all the fear. He didn't want to be alone again, to rust away in the agony that racked his frame. Much to his surprise, the medic didn't leave. He just approached the computer and began to check over his vitals, possibly looking for test results that they never ran. He was going to make the pain go away, the insecticon decided, just like he had before.

"How annoying," the smooth voice spoke up again. The insecticon liked it and it relaxed him, and it chased away any thoughts that he would offline in agony and alone. "They never seem to know how to run this place without me. The least they could have done was place you into stasis lock, so that you weren't in any sort of pain until I got here." He'd paused long enough to turn back to the Insecticon, who continued to do the only thing that he could which had been to watch him. "I am in desperate need of a new assistant."

He tried to reply, say anything again, but ultimately still failed as pain raged through his sensory net. So he watched as the medic approached him through a dimmed visor, vision blurring more and more by the second. Sharp talons traced over armor but not painfully so like the drones had done, then there was a swift movement from the medical officer. It took a moment for his lagging audio receptors to pick up on the clicking of a claw against a keypad.

The examination table heated under his freezing frame and processor ping warnings of shut down. He attempted to fight it, a part of him remembering previous stasis, but ultimately gave in. After all, the medic hadn't left him the last time so there was surely nothing to worry about. His vision darkened and system after system began to go into a locked sleep-mode that he'd oddly became familiar with. The last thing he saw was the light yet blurred face of his medic, staring down at him with a somewhat amused expression that didn't quite meet his optics.

**.O.**

The medic watched as the Insecticon's visor went dark as it had the last time, and once it had done so, he began his examination of the creature. The armor around his torso had been hit by the substance the worse. The color was darker and the metal was more decayed, and made Knock Out flinch as he probed at the area carefully. This most certainly wasn't cosmic rust, as its behavior wasn't close to it. Matter of fact, it didn't even appear that the overgrown gnat had gotten into the Cybonic plague that he'd stored away for safe keeping.

"Well that's odd," he mumbled and pulled up a laser scalpel. With a quick movement, the medic scraped off a few flecks of the diseased metal and then patted the slumbering beast's head. He tilted his helm with a cheeky little smile, then added in a mocking tone, "you just stay put like a good little cretin while I go see exactly what we're dealing with here."

He crossed the room while looking over the flecks of metal, that rested in his well protected palm, and only stopped in front of a device he hadn't had to use in quite some time. He dropped the pieces into the device and closed it up, pressing a few buttons and a hologram appeared on the wall. He scanned over the image and narrowed his optics, not immediately recognizing the readings or even after.

With a scowl, he leaned back over and pressed a few more brightly lit keys. The hologram disappeared and the screen next to him brightened up, which caused him to turn and glanced over the readings as it began to sort through and search for the particular disease. He moved the screen and leaned forward, resting his servos on the edge of the long keyboard, tapping a digit against the metal that wasn't lit for the keys.

"Of course, you would have something so lost within the achieve," he muttered, barely sending a glance to the slumbering creature. "This surely proves that it isn't what those fools thought it was. Matter of fact, in all my time with the Decepticons I have never—want is this?"

He leaned forward and narrowed his optics at the screen as symbols danced across it, giving him his answer. He blinked a few times before his optics widened and he took a step back, fumbling over his words—one of which the name of their departed Second-In-Command, along with a few other mumbled things. He shook his helm and moved to the next screen, typing away feverishly at the keys as he searched through data and soon brought up a video from the security cameras in front of Starscream's former lab. He pressed the key that would play the clip.

Sure enough, the day before there had been an entry. Three drones soon outside of the room, whispering too lowly for the camera to pick. One of the Eradicons twitched his wings and motioned with his head, the doors opened soon after and he and one of the others. There was one standing there, nervously looking up and down the hall, and the body language alone was enough to let the Decepticon know exactly who it was.

There was anger shooting through the medic, especially when the two came out with a familiar device. He felt himself snarling as he stopped the feed and turned quickly, storming out of the quarantined area and stormed down the hall. He didn't even bother to close the door behind him and nearly ran into a surprised Dreadwing, who turned and began to follow after him.

"Knock Out," he called out, confused as he followed. "Where are you going? Aren't you—"

"I don't have the time for your self-righteousness right now," the medic mocked, the rage flaring up when he saw the blue of his armor out of the corner of his optic. "I'm sure you have other things to worry about, other than where I'm going."

"Enough," the seeker replied and grabbed him by his upper arm, pulling him back. They collided but just hard enough for the smaller Decepticon to make a slight noise upon impact. "What is going on?" Knock Out didn't answer, just glared up at his captor that had wrapped his arms around his frame and held him tightly. Dreadwing, now becoming annoyed with the ever stubborn medic, narrowed his fiery red optics and his lip components raised in a snarl. "Answer me."

Knock Out didn't want to. He knew what would happen if he said anything, but he also had a deep seeded feeling that what would happen if he didn't was far worse. He too narrowed his optics, as if to challenge or scare the larger mech, but it didn't work and he felt Dreadwing tighten his grasp tight enough to knock the wind out of his vents. He coughed through them and struggled a bit, but ultimately gave in.

"I found out what was wrong with my patient," he finally answered, a sinister darkness dancing in his voice. This was more than enough for the seeker to lessen his grip but not let go completely, which only meant that he wanted more information. Possibly as to why the medic wasn't treating the Insecticon instead of running the halls like he had been when Breakdown's signal went out. "Now, if you excuse me, _Kommandant_, I need to find out just what was used so I may treat it."

There was a moment of no movement whatsoever from either of them. Then the seeker released Knock Out with a small frown, which said more than words ever could. It was a promise that if Knock Out was lying, if this wasn't about the Insecticon's treatment, that Dreadwing personally would deal out punishment since this was also his metal hide on the line. Knock Out just turned and gave a mocking smirk, that didn't quite reach his optics, and he spun back around. With a frown of his own, the medic continued on his way down the hall, one particular drone was in for trouble when the medic got his servos on him.

**.O.**

A ping over his comm link caused Megatron to glance over at his communications officer. Soundwave stood just a few feet away, his screen lit up and a connection cable extended to the main dashboard in the control room. The warlord stared at his officer for a moment before he realized that he wanted him to view something, and he motioned with his servo for Soundwave to give him the information that he desired to share.

The screen instantly filled with various symbols from their home planet and low beeps came from the computer system behind the slender mech. Megatron ignored the sound and only scanned over the words, but even had to look over the symbols a few times to completely understand what he was reading. His lips turned down into a deep frown and servos balled into fists, he bared his sharp metallic teeth in a dangerous snarl.

"Even without that treasonous seeker here, he seems to cause more trouble than he had ever been worth," the warlord nearly roared. His optics flared to their highest settings and he raised a servo, pointing at his ever loyal soldier. "Just how does this happen, Soundwave? The labs have been off limits since Starscream's departure, and under heavy surveillance!"

It was then that an image popped up on Soundwave's visor. Three drones, two flight modes and one vehicle, were pictured and the vehicle seemed a bit jumpy and uncertain. It was clear as day what the officer was telling Megatron, and didn't take him long to half turn from Soundwave. He stared out the window as he attempted to calm himself, not wanting to lash out at his most loyal servant and the closest thing he had to a friend. Not even Megatron could afford to lose Soundwave, especially after losing his traitorous seeker.

"You retrieved this information from the medbay," the warlord questioned. He watched Soundwave's reflect in the glass. The image disappeared and he could vaguely see Soundwave's normally hidden optics through the screen. It was a gesture and an answer, and Megatron narrowed his optics with a tiny smirk. "Very well. We will just wait to see what the medic is going to do then."

**.O.**

The sound of metal against metal echoed through the hall, followed by a cry of agony and surprise. Many of the surrounding drones quickly turned their helms in the direction of the noise, finding themselves staring at a rather unusual scene. The cool and menacing medic had one of their brethren pinned against a wall, sneering down at the smaller Decepticon, who shook and pleaded too quietly for many of them to hear. None exactly moved to save the Vehicon but they did watch with very slight concern but mostly curiosity.

Knock Out felt the stares and turned his helm, sneering at the group, "Back to work, all of you!"

None of them disagreed or spoke up. Most turned completely and went back to repairing the ship, while others half-worked and half-listened in on what was about to go down. There hadn't been anything like this since Starscream's disappearance, as he had been the one who normally abused them and used aggression to get what he wanted. There was no doubting that he had been Megatron's heir, but that was a different case all on its own.

"Please, Knock Out," 320 pleaded with the medic, confusion and fear playing forth in his tone. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"_Liar_," he growled lowly, digging his sharp talons into sensitive wiring. He watched with a mixture of amusement and anger as the drone cried out, struggling against the pain that ripped through his sensory net. "You were lookout, weren't you?"

"I don't—"

"You don't know what I'm talking about," he mocked icily as applied more pressure to the _attack_. He could feel the warm energon nipping at his claws but ignored it, leaning forward until his lips hovered next to the drone's audio receptors. "Where is the weapon that they took, 320?"

"I don't know," he cried out, biting back a howl of agony as the talons dug deeper into his wiring. "Please, you have to believe me!"

"Start telling me the truth and I will," he replied, voice low and dangerous as he applied more pressure. "I'm warning you, drone, if you don't start soon not even Primus will know how to put you back together after I'm done with you."

This was enough for the Vehicon to start babbling away about what had happened, although not telling the medic what he really wanted to know. "We just wanted them gone! We thought if one of them were to show signs of a disease that Megatron would get rid of them! I swear, Knock Out, we only shot one! We thought it would die instantly but it didn't, it even ripped 984's arm off, before we could even get away from the damn thing. It hurt anyway, and we didn't think it would matter! And—"

"Where is it," he snapped and pulled the wounded drone forward then slammed him back against the wall.

"645 put it back in the lab," 320 howled as he offlined his visor in pain, "I swear it! You have to believe me, please!"

"Knock Out," interrupted a voice, the color of blue entering the corner of Knock Out's sights.

"Not now, Breakdown," Knock Out said before he realized what was happening.

The entire hall froze and the medic could feel their optics on him. It was then that he realized what he had said and he whipped his head around. He met the concerned optics of Dreadwing, who then stepped forward as if to offer comfort. Knock Out did not accept it and stepped away, as if he'd been fired upon and looked around at everyone surrounding them. His processor raced and he felt the need to leave, to run away from the mistake that he had just made, and that's exactly what he did.

He walked, at a faster pace than he normally would, past the injured Vehicon and the prying eyes and mostly Dreadwing. He hated him with every fiber of his being, all of them really in this moment, but mostly Dreadwing. Why did he have to be so unlike the slender and silver Starscream? Why did he have to be blue and bulky, and almost too much like Knock Out's deceased partner and assistant? Not to mention, why did that pathetic seeker have to be so remorseful for what happened? Why couldn't he had used all that spare, and if anyone asked Knock Out, pathetic, emotions to find any remains? To find whatever was left of Breakdown, to bring peace of mind to the medic?

It was only when Knock Out had finished pounding in the last key to override the lab's doors did he realize that he'd somehow ended up there. He vented heavily when the door parted and then stepped through the opening, entering the gift that was given to the scientist when he manipulated his way to the top. The medic scowled at the thought of being in here, twice in one day at that, and began to look for the weapon that he'd seen in the video or any data on it. His patient needed it, he decided, and right now that was the best way to get his processor off the real issue.

**.O.**

The hive was filled with pained screams that echoed off the dull gray walls. Even when Hardshell entered the wails continued and droned out the whirl of the door closing behind him, but he didn't so much as flinch. He swept his optical sensors over the vast room that smelled of filth and spilled energon, the stench was tank retching and should have been more than enough to make even the Insecticon turn and walk away. But it didn't. Matter of fact, he turned and sought out the closest of his subordinates.

Nothing was said as their leader stomped over and nabbed the lower insecticon by its throat, pinning it roughly to the nearest wall. Not a single member of the hive even so much as turned from their work, various members deactivating their own and others using a stolen acid to rid their quarters of the disgusting corpses. Hardshell's optics focused solely on the squirming underling as he slammed his own frame against his and towered over the smaller soldier. A growl echoed through his chest, feelers twitching erratically and sharp talons digging into delicate neck wiring.

"_You were to contact me with a status report cycles ago,"_ Hardshell snarled at the trembling Insecticon. _"I was to give the word of this pathetic cleansing, when I was certain that the Decepticons were out of audio range! We could have been caught!" _

The Insecticon squirmed fruitlessly to get out of its leader's grasp, _"We were just trying to help,"_ it cried, hive mind at its finest, _"please, spare us!"_

"_Spare you,"_ Hardshell mocked it with malice. The larger frame tightened his grasp on the underling's throat, cables snapping easily and strangled cries falling on deaf ears. _"do you have any idea what Megatron would do if he were to catch us?"_

"_Pl-please!"_

"_Your pleading is futile!" _He gave a mighty snarl, watching his victim's helm flop about without the needed support cables. He tossed it, baring his strength and releasing a roar of anger. "As _a traitor of the hive, you will pay the price for your stupidity!"_

It was only as this that the working hive members stopped and turned, observing with slight curiosity but something all-knowing as well. All it took was another mighty bellow and the healthy members attacked, joining in the wails of their leader. Talons grasped limbs and armor and began to rip and tear at their former companion, and a few even hissed and growled at others that got too close to their chosen part. Like animals they feasted upon the metallic flesh of their own, and some even tore at fuel lines and lapped at the dripping energon. There was nothing that changed how uncivilized the action was as the sound of metal grinding on metal and crunching of their feast, even the moments of pathetically pained and panicked screams of the victim, but it was tradition and one that they held dear.

Hardshell just watched with something sinister about the way his visor glowed with pride. Even when one of the only healthy Insecticon that wasn't feasting upon the traitor came to his side. Neither spoke for some time, just watched as the mech was helplessly devoured. It was only when the newcomer came in front of its leader and took his servo in his own, then carefully nudged and nuzzled it with its helm that the alpha turned his attention to him. He still didn't speak though and only grunted, a hint for the clone to speak its case before it was branded and tossed to the hive.

"_The infected are almost destroyed,"_ it said in a tiny yet respectful tone, _"no more have shown symptoms, master."_

"_Very good," _Hardshell replied and turned his attention back to the hive, who had almost devoured the traitor all together. _"Now we must locate the cause of all this. Before Megatron does." _


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, so this chapter actually took a wee bit to redo. I pretty much looked at it and said, 'wow, I owe them more than this' and proceeded to rip apart the chapter and take out scenes, add new ones in, rearrange it. The Autobots even make an appearance which was supposed to be longer but Ratchet seemed too ooc for my likely so I had to cut a lot of his dialogue, and Optimus' too. Simply because I cannot write Optimus to save my life. Dreadwing is slowly becoming a real main character in this, and is going to get his own spin-off. _

_Simply because my little baby needs it. And I really have these little plot bunnies for some major fluffy—and is that hints of Dreadwing/Starscream in there? I think so. Even if it is nothing close to anything that would, or even could, happen. I got my feelings, kay? Thanks. _

_This isn't exactly beta read. I skimmed through it before posting, but I'm sure that I didn't catch all of the mistakes. Sorry about that, but overall enjoy the chapter? Mostly because the next one is possibly going to hold more angst/fluff than the human mind can handle. Cheers. _

**.o.o.o.o.**

The main room was eerily silent as most of the Autobots had long since abandoned it in annoyance which left the Prime and his oldest friend lingering behind. The medic stood at the control panel and was doing a rather good job at pretending to busily work by staring at one of the large screens and moving his optics back and forth without actually reading the symbols that were displayed. It almost amused Optimus, and probably would have if it had been a different time and place instead of the situation that they were currently in.

He finally broke after nearly an earth hour of standing there, watching Ratchet, and he took a step forward and another. It took him no time to stand directly behind the medic and practically hover over the smaller mech's shoulder. He reached up with a servo and placed it on his shoulder, fingers twitching against the thick but sensitive armor that his friend wore. Ratchet didn't say anything about it but did turn his helm and stare up at the Autobot Commander, and this prompted Optimus to raise question to what the group had just finished arguing about.

"Do you think I am doing the right thing," he questioned, optics dimming and peering down at his friend. He had been the only one silent during the warriors' argument, which had obviously surprised the Autobot Commander upon realizing just that. Ratchet would have normally spoke his opinion if he was on opposite sides of his friend or stood up for him if they stood on the same side of the line drawn between the teammates. However, that time he'd been silent and by this rate it didn't seem likely that he would speak up again.

Although, he did speak but not something that Optimus wanted to hear, "I do not question your decision," he answered. There was no use of the Prime's name or a fondness that normally lingered that only Optimus caught. It was dark and distant, rough and so unlike how Ratchet normally spoke to his friend. It was only when the medic turned completely to him that Optimus noticed how tense the medic truly was. "I just do not believe that you understand what you are going to do. I don't believe that you completely realize just how much this may cost you."

Even though it upset the Prime to hear it, but he also understood where the medic was coming from. It was a well known fact that the two had been companions for a long time and Ratchet was overprotective of Optimus. This protective streak had only grown when Cybertron was completely in ruins and most of their shared circle of friends, and Ratchet's more private ones, were slaughtered on the battlefield or caught in the crossfires. However, even understanding all of this didn't stop him from reacting, possibly even harshly.

"I understand completely what I am to do," he replied, pulling himself to full height and narrowed his optics, "I also know the cost, and can only imagine what the cost would be if I don't."

There was silence but only for a moment, "but we could deal with that when we get there," he responded swiftly. "I do not know if I am willing to let you pay the price of using the—"

"It is not your choice to make but mine," he interrupted, "this is a burden I am not afraid to carry, Ratchet."

It was not surprising when the medic turned to the screens wordlessly, leaving Optimus to only stare at his back. There was no instant regret or guilt over what was said from either of the friends and the silence that followed was not awkward or unnerving. The Prime merely stay there, watching his friend, for nearly an Earth hour before he managed to coax the medic away from work and down the tunnel. They would only stop when they managed to reach one of their private quarters, and would sooth away any concerns that either had the only way they knew how in the dark days they lived in.

**.o.**

Moving down the hall and pushing innocent drones of the way, Dreadwing wasted no time in tapping in the codes to his quarters and stepping through the door when it slid open easily. He approached a panel inside as the door closed and instantly connected the datapad that he had been carrying to the system set up in his room. He leaned over the panel and pressed various buttons to download the information that Soundwave had given him. He scanned over it quickly, memorizing the symbols and attempting to pull together everything, but the data didn't seem finished.

However, truth be told, Dreadwing was no scientist and did not understand the symbols completely. He did, though, know one being that could tell him everything that he needed to know. There was a moment that he felt his processor remind him that his twin, his beloved twin, had perished under that mech's command and that he was a traitor to the cause, which in turn would mark him as a traitor. He could not allow that to happen, because there was no honor in betraying those you believed so much in. However, there was still something that his spark refused to just let slip by his processor.

Knock Out. He'd let the young medic down before, especially when it came to bringing back his partner. When it'd first happened, Knock Out was not convinced that his partner had been deactivated, and demanded that Dreadwing return to the locate and search. There was no signal and slowly realization had hit him, and he demanded a body. Something to grieve over. Dreadwing had tried but could not find the grayed corpse and he had never felt more guilty before in his entire existence.

It was his fault. He'd led that two mech team to assassinate the femme. He'd been the one who lost control of the situation. He'd was the one to report the loss and been unable to return the remains to Breakdown's partner. He had, also, been the one that the young medic had called Breakdown, which possibly reopened the wounds. It was time, his spark told him, to do more than just stand idly by and watch as a comrade fell deeper and deeper.

Dreadwing knew he had to do something, so he leaned over the system attached to his wall in thought. He couldn't use this, as Soundwave could easily trace his actions, so he unblocked the one communication link that he never thought to use again. He pinged it at first, then waited for the call back but it never came. It was almost spark breaking, since there had been a time long ago that the smaller seeker would have jumped at the chance to speak with him, but he still tried again. He sent ping after ping after ping for nearly ten Earth minutes before there was an irritated growl on the other side.

"What could you possibly want, Dreadwing," came Starscream's voice. It echoed through Dreadwing's processor, and there was no missing the frustrated undertone. "If are you trying to locate me in order to deactivate me, or worse yet, to bring me back to the ranks, you are more of a fool than I could have ever imagined. You cannot track me this way."

"I know that," he responded blankly, keeping his emotions in check. Rage, hatred were the strongest of them all, but a sense of fondness tore through his spark as well. "I am calling about business."

"Oh?" The other seeker almost seemed amused by this, "and what kind of _business_ would that be?"

**.o.**

Leaned over the control panel to the lab, Knock Out glared at the screen as he tried yet another combination to unlock the information that he needed. It failed as the system locked up, in order to protect itself from unauthorized access. The medic could only grow in frustration as he glanced over at the datapad that he'd found, and deemed worthless upon finally cracking its password. Apparently, this weapon was not something that Starscream wanted the masses to know all about. Actually, any of the weapons that he'd been designing in here over the vorns.

Starscream was paranoid without a doubt. All of the information and notes that he'd had were password protected, even the notes written on datapads. Knock Out had managed to unlock that password, but upon glancing at the data he realized that there was no way he could read it. The seeker had written everything in ancient Vosian, a language only known to the upper class and royality among Vos. Knock Out, being from the slums of Kaon, had only seen it a few times—all of which involving the seeker—and could only recognize it, not read it.

Frustrated, he couldn't help but wonder how those drones managed to found the weapon and read through the notes. They had to have to know how to work the damnable weapon, as the not even the summary that he'd found that gave them away gave him much information. Just a quick statement of the symptoms and nothing more. But then something hit him, in that moment he remembered something from the video feed. Wings had twitched, the drones that stole the weapon had been Eradicon and not Vehicons.

"Fliers," he mumbled before he pushed away from the control panel. Could it be possible that the Eradicons were programmed to read, even if just slightly, the ancient language of the Cybertronians that their design was based on? The more he thought about it, the more sense that it made. When they were mass produced in the labs, Starscream had assisted in setting up the programs for them. They were created in his image, and more than likely held similar knowledge that he had.

Knock Out wasted no time in advancing across the room and over to the door, opening it with a swift movement. He stepped out into the hall, just in time to spot one of the winged drones heading down the hall towards him. He growled lowly and stepped out, nabbing the flier by his arm when he tried to step around the medic. His field flared in confusion but before he could even speak, Knock Out pulled him into the labs while muttering about how he could be of use.

The drone didn't argue as he knew better, especially after the display that he'd heard about joors ago. He simply allowed the sports car to pull him over to one of the tables, where a datapad rested all by its lonesome. He gave Knock Out a look, bewildered yet curious by this all, before the medic released him and pointed to it.

"Read it," the medic said. "Translate it for me."

The drone blinked, "excuse me," he questioned.

"I cannot read the data, but you can. At least, I think you might be able to," he answered, voice dangerously low and impatient.

"uh.."

"Well, what are you waiting for," he interrupted, not looking even remotely amused still. "What? Can't you read it? I should have known; no drone can really be of use. Especially-"

"I never said I couldn't," he snapped, "I'm just supposed to be going to shift change. Its second shift's turn to work on the ship, and I really don't want to slag off Megatron."

"You really don't want to slag off me, either," the medic replied icily. "And since I'm closer to you right now, I think I should be your main concern."

The drone considered this and decided that, at this very moment, he was more afraid of Knock Out than Megatron. After all, the warlord was in the control room with Soundwave, probably cursing his luck with merely functioning as of late, while the medic was standing in front of him with that impatient_ I-am-going-to-kill-you_ look. The choice was clear and the Eradicon picked up the datapad, turning it on and quickly bypassing the password lock, beginning to read through the file inside. What else could he had done?

**.o.**

"Oh," the slender seeker's voice rang out through the link after Dreadwing finished filling him in on what had happened. "That is a particularly nasty little weapon. I'm in utter awe that they had even found it, let alone knew what it could do. I suppose, though, I shouldn't give them too much credit. They didn't seem to know its full effect and how dangerous it could be. I plan Shockwave for that, rushing me through their programming for Vosian."

Primus was testing his patience, Dreadwing figured. Not only was the killer of his brother babbling on about something that he didn't care about at this very moment, but he really needed to know one thing. "Starscream," he questioned, "is there a cure or not?"

"Well, given that it hasn't been two solar cycles, I suppose it is possible to cure his ailments. However, those that were infected by him do not stand a chance."

"What do you mean? Is this contaguous," the larger seeker growled. "Do you mean to tell me that-"

"Calm down," was the sneered reply, "no one can catch it unless they've come in contact with infected energon from the victim. When others come in contact with the infection through that means, the virus is kick started and the process speeds up considerably. The moment that it—oh, you probably have no idea what I'm even saying, do you?"

"Not particularly," Dreadwing muttered, almost sounding embarrassed.

"Let's just say that the base is safe as long as they're not playing around in the infected Decepticon." There was a short grunt, then the seeker added, "See, the disease was designed to be a way to attack the medical staff for the Autobots, since without their medics, the troops would diminish within no time at all. As brilliant as the plan was, Megatron refuse to approve it before zipping off into space like a loon. Then Soundwave was always recording things to play back for him, and it just wasn't worth it."

"Starscream," he grumbled, impatience growing thinner by the second. Dreadwing was intelligent in his own rights, but what Starscream was babbling on about was so foreign to him that it was beginning to create an ache in his processor. Not to mention, hadn't Starscream mentioned something about two solar cycles?

"Right. You want the cure," the other seeker replied, almost sounding disappointed.

"That is my reasons for contacting you," Dreadwing murmured over the communication link, dragging a servo over his faceplates in frustration.

"Fine. Give me a joor, maybe two."

Dreadwing was bewildered at this, "for what," he inquired.

"I need to create the cure," he answered, sounding annoyed himself. "I'll send you a data packet with the location when I'm finished. Come alone, Dreadwing, or so help you, I will make you regret."

Dreadwing would have replied but the link was cut. He just stood in the center of his quarters, staring across the room at the wall. A sting of guilt hit him, he was a traitor now. He was betraying the cause, his brother, and for what? The medic's pet Insecticon? Dreadwing deactivated his optics in an attempt to clear his processor and chase away the thoughts—this was right, this would fix what he'd done wrong. If he couldn't save Breakdown or bring the medic peace of mind, then he would offer all he could to assist Knock Out.

As he stood there, optics offline and spark pulsing, he could almost hear Skyquake's laughter. It wasn't bitter like he had been during the war, but the one that often rang back in Vos when Dreadwing stared a little too long at a slender Vosian prince. A teasing and carefree noise that was more than enough to cause Dreadwing to flinch. He mumbled a 'shut up' to his dearly departed brother and approached the datapad once again, patiently awaiting Starscream's call.


	7. Chapter 7

_This was supposed to be posted for Christmas but I spent the holidays without internet and with my family. Neither of which were remotely interesting, besides the fact that I got to write a few fics in a notebook and even started on the next part to this. So, I suppose that good things do come out of boredom, right? _

_In other news, this chapter comes with some warnings. Just a few. The first part holds what appears to be fade-out-robot-sex? It isn't even the pairing listed, but Dreadwing/Starscream. There's also asshole drones, which is going to turn into an everyday warning for this fic pretty soon. And Knock Out lacks creativity, maybe. Depends on how you look at it. I'm also making up information on this verse's Insecticons as I go along. No hard feelings? _

_Other than that, enjoy! Not too many chapters left. I would love to continue writing this until the end of time, but if the Autobots don't do something soon, we're all going to die of old age. _

**.o.o.o.o.**

The forest was oddly silent, even the wildlife seemed to be hiding from the massive alien, as the seeker stood in the meeting location. He could feel his spark pulsing wildly in his chest, twisting and turning and flickering with more emotions than he cared to even admit to himself. There was guilt for betraying the Decepticons and his departed brother, because he was now meeting the enemy, and a twinge of nervousness for actually doing this unarmed for the most part. He'd brought a bomb, just in case the Starscream lived up to his new reputation.

But there was something else to that sense of anxiety. He had not seen Starscream in so long. He couldn't help but wonder how much the Vosian royalty had changed, or if he would even remember what had conspired between the two of them in the beginning of the war. If Dreadwing himself would end up falling back into an old song and dance with the other seeker, who prided in the fact that he could have any of the troops once upon a time. There was a tug at his spark with these thoughts; could his betrayal of Megatron run that deep?

As the skies turned orange and red, with hints of others, the sound of a ground bridge brought him out of his thoughts. He half turned, expected to see Autobots or even his own team, but instead there was Starscream. Those wide crimson optics swept over blue and gold plating then focused on the stack of energon cubes sitting next to Dreadwing. There was a smirk that pulled at the slender seeker's lips and he took a step forward, lingering just out of Dreadwing's reach.

"So you did bring it," he mused, helm tilting to one side lazily. "I thought you would have decided against it, probably goes against your beloved honored."

Dreadwing stiffened, "you used to have honor as well, Starscream," he replied. "Now I wish to receive the cure and leave."

"Oh, well, that's too bad." Starscream actually snickered when Dreadwing took a step back, reaching for the weapon that had been left behind. He added, rolling his optics slightly, "calm down. I merely desire assistance moving the cubes. Besides, the cure was left behind, in case you failed to follow through with our little agreement."

Dreadwing had to admit that Starscream's idea was somewhat brilliant. However, he also had a sinking feeling in his spark that it wasn't the reason that he came without the cure. Starscream knew Dreadwing's code of honor would not allow him to go back on his word, so that only left one other reason. One that both made his spark rejoice and curl in disgust. Strange, how much power that seeker still had over him, especially since Dreadwing leaned down and picked up the stack wordlessly.

Pleased by this, Starscream led him through the bridge and into a room that Dreadwing did not recognize. "Just placing them down by the control panel over there," Starscream told him, heading through a doorway but somehow remaining in range to still speak. Not that it was ever really that difficult for the seeker. "Don't touch anything," he called, nearly purring, "I just need to grab – ah-ha! Here it is."

Starscream entered the room again, this time carrying a vial. "I can hardly believe though that you would go through all this trouble for vermin," he added, smirking at Dreadwing, "so tell me, who is it that is truly infected? Who is it that revs your engine so much that you would risk your beloved honor for?"

"It is for an Insecticon, but you are right, I'm not doing it for that beast," Dreadwing muttered, not truly believe that he was saying this and to Starscream no less. "The medic has been behaving strangely. I believe if I can bring him this cure, things will be better... be the way they were."

"Oh, how noble of you, Dreading," Starscream responded, not sounding the slightest bit impressed with the other. "However, I cannot believe you've replaced me with a _ground-pounder._"

Realization flashed across Dreadwing's face, "Starscream," he murmured, "it's not like that."

"Oh," the younger seeker perked up instantly. "So he is not the one in your sights?"

"No," he said slowly, "my spark belongs to another." He couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Tell me, who does your spark belong to," the silver seeker inquired as he approached, then ran a talon along Dreadwing's cockpit.

"You," he answer automatically, repressing a shiver. It had always been Starscream. Since Vos.

"Good. It will make this so much easier..."

Before he could even question what the seeker meant, Dreadwing was pushed up against the closest wall. Started, he hadn't expected the smaller frame to possess such strength, but should have known; Starscream did not survive this long from just running away. None of that mattered though, as sharp talons skated over his plating and wings. He lifted his helm back and suppressed a moan, and the younger took advantaged of his exposed neck cables.

Sharp, unforgiving metallic teeth sank into the sensitive cables. Dreadwing arched as both pain and pleasure raced through his sensory net, and he placed his large servos on almost feminine hips. He could feel them sway under his touch, plating grinding against plating and another flare of delight raged through his sensors. There was another explosion when delicate but deadly claws slipped under blue armor, tweaking the wires that ran underneath.

"Star-"

"Don't," he snarled and sank his teeth into the cables once again, earning a small growling moan from his lover.

Dreadwing went to speak again, despite all the torment that the younger seeker was putting him through, but it was unlikely he could say a word. Especially when the sleek flier wrapped his legs around the blue warrior's waist, grinding their pelvis regions and rumbling a growl through his chest. It was in that moment that any honor and nobility was thrown out the figurative window, and a more savage reaction came forth. They ripped and tore at one another, dark cries and snarls echoed; just like Dreadwing had always envisioned it.

**.o.**

Tossing the datapad down, Knock Out rubbed his helm and vented heavily. There was nothing that he could read and the drone had proven to be worthless within less than a joor when he could do nothing more than pick out certain words. None of those words had been anything useful in the slightest, mostly things about the weapon that Knock Out had learned from the data report that he had found first. So, here he was, back at the beginning again.

He dropped his servo at his side once again and turned, abandoning both the datapad and the laboratory in general, and exited the room. He didn't even bother to make sure the door was locked, it wasn't like the drones didn't know how to get past that, as they had done so once before that he knew of. He vented heavily and shook his helm, trying to escape the thought of the agonizing death that the insecticon was to go through. But the lingering question remained: why did he care?

He didn't know and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. All he knew was that he suddenly cared about a patient, other than Breakdown, and he didn't like it. It had been bad enough that he cared for Breakdown, since Decepticons only cared about one thing and that was their selves, but now there was this... this beast! It was cruel, he decided as he began down the hall towards his med-bay, and Primus had one sick sense of humor. Taking away the one being in the universe that Knock Out felt anything for, then trying to replace it with a primitive creature.

"Knock Out," a familiar, all too familiar really, voice called out.

The medic stopped dead and half turned, glancing in the direction of the footsteps that followed. "Dreadwing," he murmured, watching the massive blue form approach. He half expected Dreadwing to come looking for him, especially after what had happened, but when he got a crystal clear view of the mech, there was no hiding his surprise. "What the Pit happened to you?"

The seeker's frame was dented here and there, mostly his torso and shoulders. He limped slightly and his hip joint seemed to be either popped out or the wiring tore. Vicious scratches, from sharp talons, littered his normally polished blue armor and there had been a somewhat awkward crack in his cockpit glass. It appeared that either he had one Pit of a good night or one horrifying one.

"Don't worry about it," he remarked, a warning growl layering over his obvious pain. He ignored the look that the medic shot his way, some hybrid concern and amusement with an ounce of annoyance, and opened his subspace. He pulled out a vial of glowing green liquid and held it out to him, adding, "the cure."

"The cure," Knock Out questioned, surprised. He took the vial and blinked, staring at it then glancing back to Dreadwing. "How did you even..."

"Don't ask," he snapped then his expression twisted with a grimace. "You only have a few joors left to treat it. Don't waste them."

Knock Out gave a startled noise and almost said thank you, but Dreadwing had already disappeared around the corner. He frowned and glanced back down to the cure, studying it for a moment. Dreadwing was no scientist. He could never had created what was necessary, especially without the laboratory that the medic had been in but he hadn't. That only left one option.

Starscream, he realized as he dimmed his optics. Of course, there was no other besides the creator of the weapon that could perform such acts on such short notice. However, he was a traitor and there were orders to capture him if seen. Dreadwing went against that, possibly, for him. Ended up injured to get him a cure that was ever so important, and after everything the medic had done to him. Blaming him for Breakdown, vicious words, and often times incredibly cruel treatment even for Knock Out.

"_You only have a few joors left to treat it. Don't waste them."_

Clutching the vial like an organic would a cross, the medic vented heavily then turned. He didn't have more than a few hours at most, according to Dreadwing, and he couldn't let that go to waste. He quickly fled his current position and advanced towards the med-bay, where his patient waited ever-so-patiently for him in stasis lock. Well, not that he had much choice.

**.o.**

Hardshell strolled down the hall to meet with Megatron for an update that he truly didn't care about. Apparently, they had found what was wrong with the little underling but would not give him much more over the communication link. So here he was, making his way to the control center where Megatron and Soundwave waited.

"I don't know about this...!"

The Insecticon stopped and listened, lingering just at the edge of the corner and out of sight. He knew that voice, vaguely. It belonged to that drone that often times had been seen with the crimson medic. A skittish little vehicon that seemed to understand the fact that his kind were far weaker than Hardshell's, and this prompted him to just stay out of their way for the most part.

"Listen, those scrap-eaters won't know anything," another voice growled in annoyance.

"You-you shouldn't call them that," the familiar voice replied. "They're Insecticons."

This caught Hardshell's attention. He tensed up at the thought that drones were mocking them behind their back. Especially when the drones were hardly winning any battles, according to Megatron. They were nothing more than a waste of energon.

"320, quit sucking up to Knock Out," a new voice snapped, "they're just Pit-bound scavengers."

Hardshell growled lowly.

"I'm—listen, we shouldn't have hurt that one. If they find out-"

There. They had admitted that they were the ones to shoot the underling.

"They're not going to find out. If they do, I'll make sure that you pay for it, 320."

"but—"

Hardshell jerked out from his hiding spot, ready to attack but found he could not. There, at the end of the hall was Soundwave. The officer was walking up down the hall and had apparently been the reason that the trio had stopped speaking among themselves. However, even though he knew he could take them out before Soundwave could reach him, Hardshell found it difficult to figure out which ones were having the little chat. All along the hall were clusters of drones, all looking exactly alike and working on the ship's repairs.

He growled lowly and turned his sights to Soundwave, who stopped walking and seemed to be staring at him. They shared a look before the Insecticon approached, no words were needed to know what the officer wanted. Then the pair headed down the hall and towards the control room in utter silence. But Hardshell promised himself, he would remember those voices and if they ever spoke again, he would kill them with his bare servos. Not for his underling, but for the fact that filthy little drones would never be higher on the food chain than he.

**.o.**

Plunging the needle into the Insecticon's main fuel line located on his throat, the medic injected the cure into his fuel lines. He pulled out the needle and patched the tiny puncture wound with a swift movement. Then, he discarded the tool on a small tray and made his way over to the computer system located in his med-bay.

He pressed a few buttons swiftly and brought up the file, which had located a series of numbers for the patient's designation. This wasn't in the slightest bit rare, as it normally happened with the Vehicons that he worked on or scrapped, but he'd expected to see a name for this mech. Especially since he was pulled from working on the ship to repair it.

He frowned and with a keystroke later, he pulled up the complete file on the patient. The medic that had worked with Megatron before him often kept complete files on his patients, even the drones, out of habit. He was thankful for this as he scanned over the various symbols that lined the screen. His frown only grew at what he read, then had to reread to make sure that he understood it completely.

"_Despite being a clone of the Insecticon Kickback, KB-239812 seems to have his processor fixed on Hardshell's group," _he read aloud, even chancing a glance at the Insecticon. "So, you're a clone without a true name. We'll have to fix that." He glanced back at the screen and skated his optics over the information, learning that his little pet had often times visited the medic with various wounds.

It was clear to Knock Out in that moment why that was. Hives were never truly fond of outsiders, even within their own race, and since this clone wasn't Hardshell's, the others would often attack it and isolate it. It didn't take a genius to figure this out. No matter how many alternations that the former medic did, probably extremely painful at that, he wouldn't be accepted. And since he had the energy signatures of the other hive, his own probably wouldn't even accept him back.

There was no way he could make that better. He could barely perform repairs, lacking both actual training and experience, and outer repairs were completely different than mental ones. So, he tapped the keyboard in thought and frowned deeply. "Scavenger," he said suddenly, then glanced back at the Insecticon. "No, no. I knew a Scavenger once and he was an utter pain in the aft. You are one as well, but let's give you a chance." He fell back into silent thought, then after a few moments, he smirked.

"I've got it," he announced and leaned over the keypad. He quickly typed in the symbols needed then leaned back, hitting save and watching as both the file he made and the one the former medic had change to his decision. There was a sense of pride in naming this beast and he would never be able to place why, so he did what he did best. He turned sharply and gathered the buffering tool, marching over to the stasis locked insecticon. He turned on the buffer and held it over the damaged torso of his patient.

"Well, we might as well not just stand around and do nothing as the cure does its thing," he added as he brought the tool down, to begin to work on shining and smoothing the armor. He hummed cheerfully, "How about we get you cleaned up, _Outbreak_?" Yes, how fitting of the Insecticon that managed to become infected with a disease that Starscream created, and give Megatron one Pit of a scare. Besides, Knock Out decided, it had an interesting ring to it.


	8. Chapter 8

_I didn't expect to update so soon because of family coming in late for Christmas and staying a week. However, my uncle and grandmother went half-and-half on a new laptop and I wanted test it out. I'm really in love with this thing. So in the spirit of this awesome gift, I offer you another chapter of Fly on the Wall. _

_Thank you all for your endless support. I seriously love you guys for the reviews and alerts, and the favorites too! I just wanted to point out that chapter nine will take place during 'Flying Mind' then chapter ten will be during Tunnel Vision and the other episodes that go along with it. It's all worked out in my head and all it needs is too be written out, which isn't that hard. _

_However, the previously mentioned uncle only comes in once or twice a year so I may not have it up for awhile. I really feel like I need to repay him for the whole buying me a new laptop thing. So card games and my time with be spent with him until, I think, Wednesday when he leaves. But I also figure that since he might want to spend time with his daughter as well, I will have some time to myself and work on updates for this and the side stories for this 'verse'._

**.o.o.o.o.**

Placing the buffer to the side, the medic gave his patient a quick glance over while frowning. Although some of the plating was not the original, or at least what he had before Knock Out replaced it due to the disease, one could hardly tell. Mostly thanks to Knock Out's superb smoothing of shades and welding lines. A few of the lines would scar but in the very least it meant that he would be able to tell his pet from the rest of the hive.

Seeing as his work was done, he crossed the room and leaned over the control panel. A keystroke later, he brought up his current vitals and the ones taken before the treatment was given. He compared them with ease and found it somewhat surprising when he noticed how quickly the beast had begun to recover. He was at nearly fifty percent functional already for Primus sake, which hadn't truly been expected.

"Well," he hummed as he pressed another button, allowing his current status to take over the screen. He scanned over the information and processed it, running over it a few more times before he glanced back over the Insecticon. Everything seemed to be in order, so he added, "I suppose I could start bringing you out of stasis, huh? Just have to hope you come out of it slowly, and not bolt up and rip my helm clear off my shoulders."

He paused for a moment, then a smirk came to his lips. "Oh, you wouldn't do that, would you," he purred at the unconscious mech. He turned back to the screen and hovered a perfectly sharpened talon over a key. He added with a snicker, "not after all I've done for you. Even a simple minded cretin like yourself could understand gratitude."

However, just as Knock Out was to press the very button that would start his pet's systems, the doors to his med-bay opened. He snarled lightly, ready to remind the newcomer that the area was under quarantine, but stopped when he turned to see a particular sight. There in his doorway was the new Second In Command, a powerful servo rested on his cracked cockpit and a scowl visible on his lips. It reminded the medic of a time when another seeker came storming in, but without one of his arms instead of roughened glass.

"Are you busy," the seeker questioned, voice uncertain and slightly brooding. His servo dropped slightly to reveal more of the wound, which seemed to have gotten worse since Knock Out had seen it in the hall earlier. He added when the medic didn't reply right away, "I can return at a later time if you would prefer, there is no real hurry at this time."

Knock Out almost wanted to laugh but couldn't. Despite being rather amusing to see the normally stoic seeker nervous, it was also quite pathetic. Almost as pathetic as the treatment of his former partner after being caught about those filthy organics. He couldn't help but wonder what had caused this reaction from Dreadwing, however, he also knew if he waited to long to reply to him, he would lose his chance. Dwelling on the subject would do nothing. He was not being kept alive for thinking but repairing the Decepticon warriors.

"Take a seat," he motioned to one of the cleared med-berths. He watched as Dreadwing approached, surprisingly not limping any longer, then hopped up on it gracefully despite his size. So different than Breakdown, he noted absently as he made his way over the seeker. Despite the few likes they had, there was no doubt that this mech had been something special in Vos. He held himself much like Starscream but with an air of maturity that Starscream lacked. "Dare I ask how this happened," he inquired, examining the cracked glass.

"It is of no importance," the seeker replied, wings twitching in a manner that he was familiar with. Shame. "I just need repairs before my meeting with Lord Megatron. I am certain that he would not be pleased."

Knock Out snorted at that, "of course not," he mused as he leaned over, brushing a digit over the wound. He almost smirked at the pained hiss that the seeker gave him, and then he stood up straight and turned. "I'll have to check the back for replacement glass. Do you think you could wait here?"

"I have no where else to go," he admitted.

The medic did not reply with actual words but did make some sort of annoyed noise. Only then did he advance across the med-bay and head in the direction of the storage center, digging through the many containers that held various replacement pairs for officers only. He was certain that the gorgeous yet rough glass had to be located in here somewhere, as he had replaced Starscream's cockpit glass multiple times with spare left over for just in case purposes. He was also sure that he requested supplies to be sent upon the new seeker's arrival, but was rebuffed when Dreadwing supplied him with items from his own ship.

This wasn't entirely rare. Seekers were always strange creatures, especially those who seemed to know Starscream. Bringing his own supplies and giving them to Knock Out was probably the most normal thing that had happened to the medic thanks to a seeker. However, the main reason that he remembered this was that Breakdown had chosen to mock Dreadwing for this, which Dreadwing had snorted something of about that spider femme. It had upset Breakdown and it took Knock Out two joors, and a replacement glass, to reverse his partner's mood.

He shook the moment of the red faced and downcast Breakdown out of his processor as his optics settled on the tinted and arched glass. He gathered it within moments and scrolled back into the main room, pausing when he saw Dreadwing glaring in the opposite direction. Knock Out could not pick up on the words that were spoken but the way his field flared and lessened multiple times let the medic know that he was more than likely on a communication link with another, and one that was most certainly not Megatron by the look that the seeker wore.

"Dreadwing," he said suddenly, making a noise with his intakes that sounded much like an organic clearing their throat.

The seeker whipped his helm around in surprise then frowned, "I've got to go," he muttered, speaking to whomever he'd been speaking to over the comm-link. He then brightened his optics and scowled, obviously not liking whatever the other had said but still seemed to end the call. "My apologies," he added to Knock Out moments later.

"Who were you speak to," the medic asked, not really caring. It was really none of his business, and although Dreadwing had done much for him lately, he still wasn't fond of being in his proximity for too long. Too many memories threatened to show themselves and there were too many similarity, and Knock Out just didn't want to deal with that. Any of it. Especially now.

"A drone," he answered too calmly for it to be the truth.

"I see," he replied as he worked his way to the transformation seams on Dreadwing's chest. He was no where near as surprised as he should have been when the seeker's frame tensed and his field pulled back violently. Ignoring it though, he popped up the cockpit and swiftly unlatched the locks that kept the piece in place. He removed the broken glass and abandoned it next to the berth, moving to grab the new piece.

"I'm surprised," Dreadwing said suddenly.

Knock Out slipped the glass into place with little effort, "about," he questioned and knelt down, attempting to get a better look at the latches he needed to fasten.

"For a grounder you seem to know a lot about a seeker frame," he answered, flinching when the medic probed a talon to roughly against the inside of the cockpit. "Most medics would have to resort to old files and learning documents."

"Yeah, well, I repaired Starscream enough to know the frame set up inside and out," he snorted before clasping the latches swiftly. He also made sure to connect a few wires that seemed to have shaken loose. He stood and crossed the room, ignoring the distressed flicker in Dreadwing's field at the mere mention of Starscream. He paused at his computer station and added, "you're free to go. You know the rules, any pain, come back, blah, blah, blah." Yeah, he could probably work on his bedside manner.

Surprisingly though, Dreadwing just slid off the berth and left the med-bay without another word. Either he'd gotten the hint that Knock Out had been trying to give him since he arrived, or he was more uncomfortable with the entire situation than Knock Out presumed. It didn't matter though. The seeker was gone and the medic could return to what he planned on doing in the first place, and hopefully in peace.

"Go figure," he mumbled as he placed his servos flat against the control panel. He scowled then and glanced over his shoulder, rolling his optics at the still frame on the berth behind him. "A seeker creates the weapon that nearly killed you, which was fired by pretty much a seeker clone, and then another seeker has the nervous to waste the time that could be used to bring you out of stasis. You really should stay far, far away from fliers, my little Outbreak. Maybe I should write you a memo for when you awaken." Then he snorted slightly, "supposing that you can read."

Without wasting anymore time, the medic pressed the button needed to activate the Insecticon's systems and bring him out of his current position. He picked up a datapad and synced it with the med-bay's computer system, then proceeded to move across the room. He took to the berth closest to his patient and hopped up on the surface, bringing the datapad into his view. He watched at the numbers climbed slowly, waiting for it to hit a hundred percent so he could mock the beast and possibly offer him energon, maybe just not in that order.

**.o.**

He did not lash out upon rebooting like he probably would have under any other circumstances. Although the dulled ache of his frame had some to do with that, it was the reminder that spread even through his subconscious during stasis. His medic would be there when he woke. His medic would not leave him for dead after placing him in stasis. He was not the other medic. The one that always hurt and tested on him, his pretty red Decepticon was different. No matter how strange that sounded.

Even when his visor came to life and his vision began to clear, the first thing he did was turn his helm and fight the urge to groan. He won the battle against his own frame and his sights came upon an obvious and distracted medic, who sat on a berth near his frame. Those odd yet pretty red optics were focused on the datapad that he held in one servo and the other tapped perfectly sharpened talons against the edge of the berth. Strange, he found himself thinking through the slight pain, how everything on that medic seemed to be just that—perfect and pretty. So unlike the other Decepticons.

"—so, I was thinking," the medic said, startling the insecticon for a moment. It only took him a mere second to realize that he did not actually notice that he was awake, but merely filling the silence. "You would look more civilized if I polished you up. I bet you would look quite good with some detailing as well. Maybe even a change in color. Well, I guess that wouldn't do much good huh? I don't think you would look quite as... charming in anything other than your current color scheme. Maybe we can do the detailing in a black or something, or just an outline in black and shade the silver—"

He blinked in thought and tried to follow the conversation as it furthered. It was useless, however, as the medic lowered his voice and narrowed his optics. Although he appeared angry, his field said otherwise. He was sad. The Insecticon did not know why or even understand, but he did know that he didn't like it. His medic should not be sorrowful. His medic should be witty and strange, and not like the other Decepticons. He wasn't when they met. He wasn't even sure if he was sad then as well. He had been a bit frightened when it came to Megatron, but nothing that others in his place wouldn't be.

Deciding that only he could change his medic's mood, for reasons he didn't quite understand, he twitched in an attempt to let the pretty Decepticon know he was there. When it didn't work, he clicked lowly and shifted, making an echoing scratching noise with his claws against the metal berth. This seemed to startle the crimson sports car out of his thoughts, and his optics snapped up and moved over to the Insecticon.

"Oh, you're awake," he said, smirking ever so slightly. The expression didn't reach his optics which still seemed oddly sad, and the Insecticon still didn't like it. He didn't voice this though, mostly because he couldn't in a way that the medic would understand. Instead, he just watched him slip off the berth and place the datapad aside, approaching his berth with slow yet steady steps. "Do you think you could handle some energon, Outbreak?"

Puzzled, the Insecticon did a quick scan of their surroundings, seeking out this Outbreak. When he could only come up with the sports car, it was clear that he was speaking to him. It didn't make much sense at first, but then he realized the truth; the medic had named him. It wasn't even a mocking name either, like the others had dubbed him, but in truth, an actual name. He didn't know what to think, especially as he stared up at the now hovering medic.

"Well," he growled, looking a bit impatient now. A servo rested on his curved hip and the other arm hung limply at his side, and oddly enough the medic's optics flared with concern that wasn't as hidden as he probably thought. "Don't tell me that it fragged with your systems. I had figured that it may cause some damage but the scans didn't pick anything up."

If Outbreak, it was strange for him to use that name for himself, could have frowned, he would have. Though, he did manage to dim his visor, which made his medic frown deeper. That wasn't what he wanted! He cursed their language barrier and his own weakness, but still managed to manipulate his magnetic field. It roared against the sports car with a flare of emotions to answer his question, which caused him to pull back in surprise.

He was fine. He needed energon though. He needed his medic to make him feel better again. Trust had managed to weasel its way in there and the Insecticon could careless. He did trust this Decepticon, more than he trusted anyone in his function previously. Prettycon, which is what Outbreak decided to call him because he needed a name too, made the pain go away, made him feel better. No one else had ever cared before this.

The medic stumbled and turned and made his way over to one of the cabinets. He fumbled with the door and then a cube of energon, before returning to the Insecticon, who was mildly amused by this. Yet he was concerned as well, worried that he had done something wrong and upset Prettycon. Surprisingly though, he just assisted his patient in sitting up and handed off the cube. Then, when Outbreak's grip was too shaky to bring the cube flawlessly to his mouth, he did that for him as well.

It surprised Outbreak. He hadn't expected further kindness from his medic, but when he attempted to bring his field close again, just to search for answers, the medic clamped down on his. It didn't upset him. He understood that Prettycon was probably confused, startled by all of this, and was being cautious. It was either that or something close to it, so he didn't exactly blame the medic and turn bitter. He just accepted the help and enjoyed the warmth of his Prettycon's servo on his frame.

Soon the cube was empty and his tanks were not aching. He was placed on his back once more and the container was abandoned on a nearby tray. He stared up at the medic for a moment, watching as he observed him for a brief moment. Prettycon then smirked and slipped a servo back onto his hip, swaying them to one side as if he were teasing the Insecticon with his figure. If that was the case, then it was working and Outbreak could feel his frame heating up ever so slightly, but managed to figure the urge to act upon natural responses. Although his current weakness had something to do with it as well as his need to impress Prettycon.

"Auto-repairs should take care of everything else," he said suddenly, causing Outbreak to rip his gaze from those curvy hips to those strange red optics. He lifted his other servo, then proceeded to pat his helm ever so slightly. "Just relax and recharge, and your strength should return. Now I have—what are you doing?"

With his large and powerful servo wrapped around his medic's much smaller and delicate one, the Insecticon watched as Prettycon's optics narrowed. He didn't answer, not that he could, but did give the limb an experimental tug. The officer didn't move, so he tried again but more gently. He observed how tense he was, the way his shoulders lifted and lips pulled back into a tiny snarl. It then flared his aura again, allowing it to mingle with the medic's, and watched as his frame instantly relaxed.

"I'm not going anywhere," he muttered, looking uncertain and almost ready to bolt.

It didn't sit well with Outbreak. He remembered a similar look in another medic's optics, the way that medic held himself, and how he ended up in stasis on another planet. He tugged at the limb again, rougher this time, and flared his energy. Although weaker as his systems wanted to slip into recharge, he still managed it, giving the medic one little request. To stay with him. To continue to care and to return the guarding favor he had done for him.

Surprisingly, there was understanding in his medic's optics. "Clingy," he snorted but still allowed the Insecticon to pull him closer to the berth. "Just until you enter recharge. Unlike you, I have important matters to take care of." He then allowed Outbreak to scoot over slightly, with just enough room to perch at the very edge.

It pleased him enough to deactivate his visor and enter darkness. He took a risk before entering recharge though. One of his thick armored arms moved carefully around his medic's torso, feeling the warmth that the crimson Decepticon produced. He also felt something else. The way that he tensed up momentarily but relaxed, allowing the Insecticon this one last thing before slipped into a peaceful recharge.

**.o.**

The medic scowled when he heard the little ping to let him know that the patient had fallen into recharge. Even though the feel of another field so close to his and so willing to mingle was nice, he wanted to get away and knew he had to. Not to mention, he was sure that his shiny finish—it should have been obviously that he would have taken that buffer to his own armor as well—would have little silver streaks. Annoying paint transfer similar but not even close to the blue markings that he often wore with pride from his quarters to the med-bay.

Knock Out spent several minutes trying to pry the Insecticon's clawed servo from his hip and wiggle out of the loop that the arm attached to it had around his frame. It obviously failed and the medic growled, but the patient remained obvious. He snorted at that thought and began angry with himself for even agreeing to sit down, let alone staying with the overgrown cretin. Most of all, though, he found that blaming Breakdown worked a Pit of a lot better.

After all, Breakdown had softened him, spoiled him even. He allowed him to get away with murder, quite literally sometimes, and always protected him, even though sometimes he was injured turning the process. But always afterward, sitting in their personal sanctuary known as the med-bay, Breakdown would pull him onto his lap by the hand and hold him close. This wasn't Outbreak's place, he found himself thinking bitterly, but Breakdown's and the latter would not like that some bug had taken his spot.

In a moment of anger, the medic glared down at the Insecticon and balled his fist, ready to smack the bug right off the berth and away from him. His optics focused for a moment and he froze. The way that large frame lay still and relaxed, it reminded him of a time that he didn't want to remember in the slightest. His partner in an interfacing afterglow, laying flat on his back and waiting ever so patiently for the medic to join him. It was an assault on his memory core and on his very spark, and sent him into a moment of weakness.

In this oddly vulnerable state, he managed to slid out of the Insecticon's grasp, much to his surprise as he couldn't before this moment. Then, he absently pushed the mech aside, just enough to make more room for his own frame. Once he was sure to have an adequate amount of room, he laid down next to him and weaseled his body between Outbreak's side and arm. Even from this angle, he could hear the gentle beating of the other being's spark pulsing in the chamber that held it.

He grasped the Insecticon's wrist and pulled the arm around him, allowing the clawed servo to come to rest on his side. The warmth of another body tickled at his sensory net and urged him to recharge. It was an enticing idea, one that called to him and reminded him of just how hard he'd been working and how much he deserved this. So he did it. He deactivated his optics and hushed his systems into a recharging state; pretending for a moment that the beast next to him was not some lower life-form but his previous partner. Soon enough, he slipped into the darkness and slept.


End file.
